


And it's a rotten thing (It comes crumbling down)

by Night_Faye



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aithusa is an adorable baby, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur actually has a few braincells rattling around in there, Arthur's incredibly complicated relationship with his father is explored, Canon Divergence - Episode: s04e01-02 The Darkest Hour, Gen, Grief, Gwaine's nobility is explored, Gwen is great we love Gwen, I hated the stew scene in Aithusa so I FIXED IT, Merlin's magic is revealed to Gwen, Merlin's magic revealed to the knights of the round table, Morgana Redemption (Merlin), Mysteries, Oh we're getting to the intrigue now, The knights being great, Uther lives past The Wicked Day, Uther's never ending suckiness, Very minor Arwen (There's some focus on it but it's not the main thing), What is a dragon if not a scaly cat that can breathe fire?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 61,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_Faye/pseuds/Night_Faye
Summary: “I wasbornwith magic, Arthur. Soplease, stop saying it’s evil.”“Merlin…”“It’s just a tool, Arthur, like your sword. It’s only as evil or as good as the one who wields it.”
Relationships: Gwaine & Gwaine's Sister (Merlin), Gwen & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 199
Kudos: 188





	1. And go into the dawn (Good, Evil, is there any truth in ultimatums)

As soon as camp had been set, Arthur had pulled Merlin into his tent, and set and watched as he completely broke down.  
  


It wasn’t exactly a shock. Lancelot and Merlin had always been close, and now…  
  


Now, Lancelot was _gone.  
  
_

Arthur’s chest throbbed, and he rubbed a hand across his sternum, though he knew it would do nothing to quell the pain.  
  


Lancelot had been a good friend to them all.  
  


But this...This was what was hurting in the moment. A crying Merlin was a rare sight, and, distressingly, all his emotions seemed to have dimmed over the years he’s been at Camelot.  
  


And this...This seemed more than a mourning for a friend. This seemed so much _deeper_. A long coming storm that Arthur didn’t know about until the dark grey clouds were right over head.  
  


“Merlin, there was nothing you could have done.” Arthur said, quietly. Comforting someone was...Well, he knew he wasn’t very good at it, and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle this all.  
  


He knew, deep down, it wouldn’t help. He was telling himself the exact same thing and it certainly wasn’t a help there.  
  


Merlin swallowed, shook his head, and rubbed at his face. “But there was...There has to have been.” He whispered, his voice broken and barely there. Almost like smoke that’s liable to blow away at any moment.  
  


Arthur sighed, putting a hand on his serv- On his _friend’s_ shoulder, and giving it a gentle shake. “Merlin, what in the world makes you think that? The way you’ve said it, you didn’t even realize he’d made his way over to the veil before it was too late.”  
  


“I could’ve-!” Merlin whipped his head up, eyes wide and wet and red, cheeks stained with tears, lips still trembling. And, right in front of Arthur, Merlin seemed to _shatter.  
  
_

And there was a look, suddenly, in his eye. A look of a man who has lost all will to live.  
  


Arthur shivered as Merlin closed up, and his face-  
  


Well, he looked determined.  
  


“I could’ve used magic, Arthur. I _should’ve_.”  
  


Arthur _froze_.  
  


‘ _No.’_ was his immediate thought, because just how many things has magic stolen from him? It was _evil_.  
  


It’d taken his mother. It’d taken Morgana, a girl he’d loved as a sister (A girl who _was_ his sister). It had taken _so. Many. People.  
  
_

And now it had taken Lancelot.  
  


Arthur was _terrified_. “ _Mer_ lin-”  
  


“Arthur, please, just-”  
  


“No! Merlin, are you insane!? You- For one thing, how would you even use magic? And-” Arthur paused, grabbing both of Merlin’s shoulders and _squeezing_. “And second, you’ve seen all it’s done, it’s _evil-"  
  
_

“It’s not evil! Arthur, _listen to me-”  
  
_

“ _Not evi-”  
  
_

“I was _born_ with magic, Arthur!” Merlin gasped, his hands clutching against Arthur’s cheeks, ocean blue eyes seeming to see past Arthur’s own, right into his very soul. “I was _born_ with magic, Arthur. So _please_ , stop saying it’s evil.”  
  


“Merlin…”  
  


“It’s just a tool, Arthur, like your sword. It’s only as evil or as good as the one who wields it.” Merlin whispered, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s, hard and harder.  
  


His hands were shaking, violently, against Arthur’s cheeks.  
  


It wasn’t linking up in his head. Merlin, being born with magic. He can’t have been, because _Merlin_ wasn’t evil, and-  
  


And-  
  


But, Merlin wouldn’t lie about this. And that look in his eyes, the acceptance. The loss of a will to live but the knowledge he had to keep _going_.  
  


The weight of a doomed man who may as well have been dead already. Still marching because he’s been given his orders.  
  


“But...Morgana.” Arthur whispered, couldn’t keep the horror from slipping into his voice. The threads of everything in his life, everything he had thought he’d known, were slipping from his fingers.  
  


“It wasn’t magic that corrupted her, Arthur. It was _fear_.”  
  


‘ _Fear_.’  
  


It seemed so...Obvious, in that moment.  
  


Morgana had magic, she had lived her life under the roof of Uther Pendragon.  
  


He should’ve…  
  


“Arthur?”  
  


“I’ve…Merlin…”  
  


And then, he tugged Merlin into a hug, holding him tight.  
  


“Do you think...Do you think there’s any way to...To bring her home?”  
  


There was a great big sigh from Merlin, who dug his fingers into Arthur’s back and buried his head against Arthur’s shoulder.  
  


“I don’t know, anymore.” He whispered, and sounded so _heartbroken_ over it. “I don’t know, Arthur, because fear is _powerful_ , and it can rot you from the inside out. But we can try.”


	2. The shadows of the past creep on us (But the light of the future is far too bright)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Arthur…?” Merlin lifts an eyebrow, and Arthur hopes, hopes, _hopes _that this isn’t too much to ask.__
> 
> __“Magic...Merlin, you could-” He swallows, turns away from Merlin’s face, doubles over and squeezes his eyes shut. “I know that this is...That he doesn’t-” He bites his lip. “He doesn’t deserve you sav-”_ _

Arthur stands, staring out the window at the people below, and the candlelight vigil they’re holding.  
  


He swallows, thickly, and tries to think on how to ask Merlin what he so desperately wants to ask. It’d be…  
  


His father was the man who put terror into so many hearts. Into his sister’s heart, and, as he realized shortly after the burning of Lancelot’s cape and sword, Merlin’s as well.  
  


But, awful as he is, he is still Arthur’s _father_. And wasn’t it Merlin himself who stopped Arthur from killing him, so long ago?  
  


He sighs, deeply, and places his hands upon the window sill, pressing his forehead against the cool class. The lights flicker below.  
  


“There is a way to save my father.”  
  


“Arthur…?” Merlin lifts an eyebrow, and Arthur hopes, hopes, _hopes_ that this isn’t too much to ask.  
  


“Magic...Merlin, you could-” He swallows, turns away from Merlin’s face, doubles over and squeezes his eyes shut. “I know that this is...That he doesn’t-” He bites his lip. “He doesn’t deserve you sav-”  
  


Merlin cuts him off with a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur...Arthur, hey...Hey”  
  


Arthur opens his eyes, turns his head and looks up at Merlin’s face, all soft and understanding.  
  


“Arthur, of _course_ I’ll save your father, it’s not like I’ll be doing it for _him.”_ He smiles, a careful thing, with gentle eyes. “I’ll be doing it for _you_.”  
  


This is...The second time someone has made clear that they do all of this for _him_. It makes him wonder, for a moment, what exactly he did to deserve it all.  
  


Arthur nods, and rises up, rolls his shoulders. He’s trying to ignore the vigil outside his window, now.  
  


“Thank you, Merlin. Is there….Is there anything you need to…?”  
  


Merlin grimaces, looks a little ashamed. “Time.” He shrugs. “I’m, er, still learning healing spells, and there might be ingredients I need to gather.”  
  


“My father doesn’t have much...”  
  


“I’ll have something before then, Arthur.”  
  


Arthur nods, and he can’t think of a way to thank Merlin enough, except…  
  


“Merlin...He’ll still be…I mean, I’ll still be regent, even after you’ve saved his life, yes?”  
  


Merlin tilts his head, seems to be putting honest _thought_ into it, before he pursed his lips and shrugged.  
  


“I can heal his physical wound, but the mental ones he received when Morgana betrayed him, us...He seemed better, during your birthday, but I can’t say whether that was…”  
  


“Due to the occasion, yes, I understand.”  
  


Merlin looks thoughtful, still, and he crosses his arms and leans against the wall, lifts one of his brows.  
  


“Why are you asking?”  
  


“Merlin...If I am still regent...I’m going to work on getting the repeal on the magic ban started.”  
  


He blinks for a few moments, his jaw dropped wide open, and Arthur can’t help the small smile.  
  


And all of a sudden Merlin is _flinging_ himself at Arthur, and wrapping him in a tight hug.  
  


Arthur grins against Merlin’s temple, soaking in the ‘ _Thank you’s_ ’ like cloth would a puddle of water.

* * *

Arthur’s waiting in the physician's chamber as Merlin stuffs several things he can’t even begin to _name_ in to a leather satchel, all while reading from a big, old, leather bound book with pages upon pages, some looking close to crumbling apart at the edges.  
  


He taps his foot, and he can tell Gaius is close to snapping but _wont_ because Gaius has always understood Arthur’s need to dispel excess energy. Had always soothed him when he had stormed out of his lessons because they were never engaging enough, and he’d been punished by his tutors for spending too much time staring out the window and too little time looking at the material.  
  


He bites his lip, watches as Merlin pours a strange powder into some mystery liquid and swirls them together, before putting a cork into the glass beaker and wrapping it in cloth, before tucking right alongside the several other things in his bag.  
  


“ _Mer_ lin.”  
  


“One more second, Arthur. I’m not about to do this _wrong_.” Merlin sighs, rolling his eyes as he once again bends over his spell book.  
  


Which he had been hiding under a floorboard under his bed.  
  


Arthur was both happy he’d never been caught, and _seriously disappointing in the guards of Camelot.  
  
_

Not that it helped being reminded _he_ had missed it, too. Merlin’s luck was the stuff of dreams for his friends and the stuff of nightmares for his enemies, and Arthur was _very_ glad to have him on his side.  
  


“ _Mer_ lin.”  
  


“Alright, _alright_.” Merlin mutters, slamming his book closed and stuffing it in the satchel. “Lets go heal a genocidal maniac.”  
  


“Merlin.”  
  


“Sorry, couldn’t help it.”  
  


Arthur rolls his eyes, but pushes himself up off the table and leads the way out of the physician’s chamber.  
  


It...Was true. That was exactly what his father was. And Arthur was now asking Merlin to heal him. To save the life of the man who has decimated his people.  
  


Arthur didn’t know how he’d deserved this deep of loyalty from Merlin. He knew nothing of Magic, Merlin could have told him there wasn’t a way, not even with magic, to save Uther.  
  


And yet.  
  


And yet, here he was, a step behind Arthur with a determined look on his face.  
  


He’d do this. For _him_.  
  


They approach his father’s chambers, and Arthur is suddenly very uncomfortable with the guards being there.  
  


He clears his throat and gets their attention. “You’re dismissed.”  
  


They share a look, of surprise, Arthur is sure, and then one speaks up. “But, Sire, we were instructed not to leave our post.”  
  


“And I said you’re dismissed.”  
  


They look, again, to each other, before nodding. “Yes, My lord.”  
  


They pass by Arthur and Merlin, and Arthur waits till they’ve rounded the corner and their footsteps have faded before walking up to the doors of his father’s chambers and pushing them open.  
  


Merlin approaches Uther’s bed, and Arthur shifts. He’s so still, and pale.  
  


Merlin digs out several things, and begins applying them to Uther’s wound. Crushed herb mixtures turned to paste before being wrapped up tightly with bandages. More for show than anything else.  
  


He then digs out a dropper bottle, and carefully drips four drops onto Uther’s lips, and then pulls out a branch, and, right in front of Arthur, for the first time, Merlin’s eyes…  
  


Merlin’s eyes glow a brilliant gold, and on him it doesn’t bring the memories of so many attempt on his life, it only seems more like _Merlin_. They’re still gentle, still kind, just...Somehow _more_.  
  


The branch begins to smoke, and Merlin takes in a deep breath, before he begins to speak in a way that Arthur _recognizes_ but can’t understand.  
  


“Efencume ætgædre, eala gastas cræftige: gestricie pis lic forod.”  
  


Uther’s eyes snap open, and he takes a large gasp of air, and Arthur shoves Merlin back, behind the curtains, and hopes beyond hopes That Uther didn’t see the younger man.  
  


“Father?...Father?”  
  


Uther swallows, he looks...He looks disoriented, and Arthur grabs one of his hands, runs his thumb over his father’s knuckles.  
  


“Father?”  
  


Uther’s eyes slide over to him, and there is a fog that’s steadily clearing. “Arthur?”  
  


“Yes…” Arthur swallows, can feel the tears gathering in his eyes. “Yes, father, it’s me.”  
  


Merlin approaches, again, but this time his eyes are once again blue, and he’s got a cool cloth that he dabs against Uther’s forehead, to rid the sweat that’s started to bead there.  
  


“How...I don’t understand, I should’ve died...”  
  


Arthur’s lips twitch. “Merlin remembered an old remedy of his mother’s for deep wounds like yours. Went all the way to Ealdor to get it, and the ingredients he couldn’t get here in Camelot. He saved your life, father.”  
  


“Ah…” Uther grunts, and tries to sit up, but Arthur quickly puts his hands to his father’s shoulders and he presses him back into his bed.  
  


“Don’t try to get up just yet, father, you’re still healing.”  
  


“I see.” Uther takes another deep breath. “I suppose I should give your manservant thanks.” He says, nodding to Merlin, who seems to fluster. “He is loyal, beyond what you could imagine, Arthur.”  
  


“Oh, I know, father.” Arthur smiles, looking over his shoulder at Merlin.  
  


Merlin gives him a soft smile back.

* * *

“ _We have a problem, My lady.”  
  
_

“ _What?” Morgana narrows her eyes at Agravaine. Something about his tone, and how he is holding his body, is not like himself.  
  
_

_He’s...Nervous.  
  
_

“ _Uther isn’t dead.”  
  
_

“ _How? I thought you said he was good as, that not even Gaius could save him?”  
  
_

“ _It’s the servant, Merlin.”  
  
_

“ _What about him? What could he possibly have done?”  
  
_

_Agravaine swallows, and takes another step forward. “I was passing by Uther’s chambers, and I smelt something, My lady, I smelt sage. So I took a peek, and,” He takes another step. “Magic, My lady. He has magic, and he used it, in front of Arthur, to heal Uther.”  
  
_

_Morgana sits up in her chair a little straighter, her eyes widening._  
  


“ _Oh?...Well... isn’t that_ _oh. So. Interesting.”_


	3. And you turn and tell them all (A time of rebirth is coming)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well,” Arthur huffed, taking the key to the vaults off of his belt and holding it out to Merlin. “Go on and help the thief, then.”
> 
> Merlin grabbed it and grinned.

Arthur was sat at his table, empty plate pushed away. “So this...This Julius Borden has two pieces of a three piece key to some sort of-” He paused, squinted, and waved his hand about as he tried to comprehend what Merlin was saying. “Tomb of ashkonooie?”  
  


Merlin sighed, thumping his head against one of the posts of Arthur’s bed. “Tomb of _Ashkanar.”_ He corrected. “And yes, and the third’s down in the vaults.”  
  


“Why is he putting this thing together again?”  
  


“Because there’s a rumor,” Merlin turned around and leaned against the post, crossing his arms. “Or, well, It’s a _legend_ , really. Says that the Tomb of Ashkanar holds a dragons egg.”  
  


“And this Borden fellow, he’s a thief, so he want’s to, what? Steal a dragons egg for the glory of it?”  
  


“Well,” Merlin grimaced. “Probably? But he _says_ he want’s to release it, bring the dragons back to life.”  
  


“ _Mer_ lin-”  
  


“Arthur, we’ve been over this.”  
  


Arthur sighed, took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Yes, they _had_ gone over the whole dragon fiasco thing. (And the fact that Balinor was Merlin’s father, which, now Arthur felt a million times worse for his flub of comforting him with ‘ _no man is worth your tears_ ’. He could tell it had been the wrong thing to say at the time, and now he knew _why_.)  
  


“So you want us to _voluntarily_ give him the rest of the key, and let him release the dragon?”  
  


“No,” Merlin shook his head. “He’s not a dragon lord, even if he _could_ open the egg, which I asked Kilgharrah about, he _can’t_. But let’s say he _could_ , he wouldn’t be able to control the dragon inside, and that would be dangerous itself.”  
  


“And,” Arthur sighed, biting his lip. “He likely doesn’t _know_ he can’t open the egg, so he’ll try anyway, and-”  
  


“Potentially harm the hatchling inside, yes.”  
  


Arthur buried his head in his hands.  
  


“So, we steal the other two pieces off him, and go ourselves, then. Yeah?” He peeked up between his fingers, and Merlin was _grinning.  
  
_

“Oh, no. You’re going to hate my plan _so much more_ than that.”  
  


“Oh, _no_.”  
  


“Oh, _yes.”  
  
_

Arthur sighed, deeply, and lifted his head from his hands, meeting Merlin’s eyes with his own.  
  


“I have one stipulation.”

* * *

Arthur watched as Leon buried his head in his hands and shook it slowly. “Oh, of _course_ Merlin has magic, of _course_. Everything makes _so much sense_ now.”  
  


“I think this is great” Gwaine grinned, he was, quite clearly, _ecstatic_. “And to top it off, he’s a dragon lord, too. This is the _best_.”  
  


“Thanks, Gwaine.” Merlin’s lips twitched, and Gwaine’s grin grew as he tugged him into a hug and ruffled his hair with his knuckles.  
  


Percival was smiling, softly, and when Merlin met his eyes, there was _something_ communicated there that Arthur couldn’t quite place.  
  


“Oh, he-”  
  


“Yes, he did. But it was well before he thought he’d see you again, and he never said your name, but, well...It became rather obvious, later on.” The large knight shrugged, and Arthur tilted his head before he realized.  
  


‘ _Oh...Lancelot.’  
  
_

Merlin nodded, and ducked out of Gwaine’s grasp, his eyes flitting over to Elyan.  
  


Elyan shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with it, Merlin.”  
  


He grinned at the knight, and took his arm in a proper knights handshake.  
  


“Well,” Arthur huffed, taking the key to the vaults off of his belt and holding it out to Merlin. “Go on and help the thief, then.”  
  


Merlin grabbed it and grinned.

* * *

Arthur watched Merlin groan and bury his head in his hands, and sighed deeply as he sat down next to him, shoving a bowl full near to the brim of hot stew so that the lip of it would dig into his arm.  
  


“Come on, then, eat up. You went to all the work to make it, can’t have you not having any to yourself.”  
  


Merlin sighed, and shook his head. “No, M’not hungry.”  
  


“ _Mer_ lin.”  
  


“What if I messed up? Convincing you to let Borden steal the final piece? If he manages to get away from us, then-”  
  


“Merlin, Hey.” Arthur set aside the bowl, twisting it about until it was steady on the uneven ground, held up amongst the forest debris. “Come on, you haven’t messed up. We’ll catch him. It’s a good plan.”  
  


“But what if it _isn’t_? Arthur, what if-”  
  


“What’s bringing this on, Merlin?”  
  


Merlin sighed, a bone deep weary sort of sigh, and looked around.  
  


“Don’t you recognize it? The area, I mean.”  
  


Arthur looked around, himself, but all he could see was the burning flames of the campfire, and the laughing faces of the knights, and the dark of the forest around them. He shook his head.  
  


“Can’t say I do, should I?”  
  


Merlin shrugged. “This was where...Where my father-”  
  


“ _Oh.”_ Arthur swallowed, the guilt settling deep in his gut. “Oh.”  
  


Merlin shrugged. “I just...He asked me to-”  
  


“Merlin, hey,” Arthur clamped a hand down on Merlin’s shoulder and gave it a shake. “It’s alright. We’ll get that dragon egg, and you’ll hatch it, and we’ll start making amends to the world for what my father has done to it.”  
  


“Yeah?”  
  


“Yeah.” Arthur grinned, turned his head towards the campfire. “Come on, then. We’ve got stew to eat. I’ve already ordered the other knights to cover cleaning it up and feeding the horses, you need the break.”  
  


“Alright.” He smiled at him, though he still looked tired. “Thanks, Arthur.”  
  


Arthur picked up the bowl as he stood, and held his arm out to Merlin, who grabbed it and let himself be hauled up.  
  


“Of course, Merlin.”

* * *

“He must’ve left in the night.” Arthur grumbled, clutching his sword tight in his hand.  
  


Merlin sighed, tapping his feet against the ground, and Arthur looked over at him.  
  


“Merlin?”  
  


“I met with some druids last night, after you all went to sleep, they said he was going east.”  
  


Arthur nodded, not really wanting to go down the line of questions about _how_ , exactly, Merlin had just ‘ _Met with some druids_.’ “Then we’ll go east.”

* * *

Merlin’s gold eyes seemed to illuminate the cave around them as he lifted his hands towards the waterfall, a stream of words, once again in the language Arthur _recognized_ but couldn’t _understand_ , flowing from his mouth.  
  


“Ic clēofe þes wætergefeall, aliefan begang.”  
  


Before them, the waterfall split, leaving them a clear passage to the other side, and a clear view to a large tower in the distance.  
  


“Well, that’s handy.” Arthur muttered, sheathing his sword and heading towards the rocks to clamber down  
  


“No wonder no one’s ever found it.” Gwaine laughed, clapping a hand onto Merlin’s shoulder and giving a few shakes. “Good work, spell boy.”  
  


Merlin smiled at him, but nodded towards the waterfall, “Go on, then, I’m not going to hold this all day.”  
  


Once all the knights were on the other side, the waterfall fell back together again, and Merlin ducked through it, holding his jacket out over his side to protect his satchel, but still getting the rest of his body absolutely _drenched_.  
  


“Alright, there?” Gwaine asked, hands reaching up to undo his cape, no doubt to offer it Merlin to dry off with.  
  


“Yeah, I’m fine.” Merlin grumbled, shaking out his hands and soaking hair, before he muttered something and his eyes flashed gold, and steam seamed to swirl off his body, leaving it dry. He grinned, wide, and there was a mischievous glint in his once-again blue eyes.  
  


Gwaine grinned right back at Merlin. “I can’t believe I’m about to repeat the princess, here, but _that’s handy_.”  
  


“Thanks, Gwaine.”

* * *

Arthur watched as Merlin grimaced at the bolt in Percival’s leg, before digging out the spell book from his bag and placing it in his crossed legs, and beginning to flip through the pages, his hair flopping over his face as he bent low over it.  
  


“Is there anything you need?” He asked, edging closer.  
  


“Space, and quiet.”  
  


“Oh,” Arthur muttered, and tried not to flush at Percival’s snort as he backed up. “Right, of course.”  
  


Merlin closed his book and set it to the side, before turning to the campfire where Arthur had settled with the other knights, flicking his eyes over each of them before nodding, seemingly to himself.  
  


“Elyan, come over here, would you?”  
  


Elyan nodded, and scrambled up and over to them, listening closely as Merlin instructed him on how to hold Percival’s leg while he grabbed the protruding end, just above the metal tip, his hand and muttered something.  
  


His eyes glowed gold, which Arthur could barely see from his position, and the wood began to smoke until a chunk, metal tip included, fell away and into the dirt. And once Merlin pulled his hand away, Arthur could see that the wood seemed to resembled melted material, smooth, with no jagged edges.  
  


“Alright, this is probably going to hurt, Percival. I’m going to pull the bolt out, now.”  
  


Percival gave his nod of go-ahead, and Merlin carefully grabbed the other end of the bolt, placing his free hand on Percival’s leg, and slowly began to pull it out, wincing along with Percival’s grunt and grimacing.  
  


“Sorry, sorry.”  
  


Percival shook his head, smiling softly. “You’re fine, Merlin.”  
  


Merlin nodded, and held his hand over the entry and exit wounds, his eyes flashing gold once again.  
  


“Þurhhæle dolgbenn.”  
  


Percival blinked, and Merlin waved off Elyan as he stood and held a hand out to the large knight.  
  


Percival took it and Elyan’s own offered hand, and let himself be hauled up, testing his leg carefully before putting his whole weight on it.  
  


“Huh,” Percival grinned, ruffling his fingers through Merlin’s hair. “Thank you, Merlin, it feels great.”  
  


Merlin smiled, and nodded. “Glad it worked.”  
  


Leon smiled and nudged Arthur, giving him a look.  
  


Arthur lifted his eyebrows, and Leon rolled his eyes.  
  


“He seems happier, more like when he first arrived in Camelot.”  
  


Arthur looked back over to Merlin, now stuck in a headlock by Percival while he and Elyan messed up his hair. He couldn’t help the smile.  
  


“Yeah, he does.”


	4. The sun shines with hope (And new life is upon us)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You seem...Pretty agitated, Merlin. You’ve stopped us from dying, so…?” Gwaine asked
> 
> “He messed with my cooking to hurt you all, People don’t mess with my cooking, period. But especially not to hurt the people I care about.”

Merlin seemed _very_ annoyed as Arthur blinked his eyes open, and was already moving to Gwaine’s still body as Arthur began sitting up.  
  


“What happened?”  
  


Merlin grumbled something, and then something else as his eyes flashed, causing Gwaine to shift and mumble as his face wrinkled and he slowly blinked awake.  
  


“ _Mer_ lin.”  
  


“Borden managed to get a bag of Valerian, Chamomile and Nightshade into the stew while I had my back turned.” He complained, moving over to Percival as soon as he’d seen Gwaine was properly awake. “I already cured the Nightshade poisoning, so nobodies bodies are failing on them, but I needed a separate spell to wake you all up from the sleep that the Valerian and Chamomile sent you into.”  
  


“Oh,” Arthur hummed, rubbing at his sternum. There was definitely an odd ache there, and he found his eyes slipping over to the stew pot. A cloth pouch was next to it on the ground, soaked through with the stew, but undone. Dried herbs were spread out and, clearly, identified into piles, and he grimaced.  
  


“You seem...Pretty agitated, Merlin. You’ve stopped us from dying, so…?” Gwaine asked, now also sitting up and rubbing at his own sternum. It was an _odd_ feeling, and Arthur didn’t know if it was from the attempted poisoning or from Merlin’s healing.  
  


“He messed with my cooking to hurt you all, People don’t mess with my cooking, _period_. But especially not to hurt the people I care about.” He muttered as he woke Leon, fingers digging into the eldest knights cheeks and tilting it up as Leon grumbled and blinked, Elyan already pushing himself up from the ground, stumbling a bit as he smacked his lips and shook his head.

* * *

They all scrambled through the dark forest, letting Merlin take the lead, until they came to a clearing.  
  


Borden was ahead of them, climbing into the tower, and they quickly followed him.

* * *

They turned the corner just as Borden turned the key, and Merlin shouted at him.  
  


The door opened, and Borden looked back at them all before entering, but just as he did, smoke began pouring out of someplace beyond the doorway that Arthur couldn’t see, and Merlin began running up the stairway as Borden began to cough, smoke enveloping him and rushing towards Merlin, towards them all.  
  


Arthur jolted forward, only to be grabbed by Leon, Gwaine tugging Arthur’s cape over his mouth, his free hand holding his own cape up.  
  


Merlin pulled his jacket up and held up a hand towards the smoke, muffled words floating down to them that Arthur couldn’t make out.  
  


The smoke was quickly pulled back by some mysterious wind, and Merlin made his way up the rest of the steps.  
  


The knights quickly followed, and watched as he crouched down and took a look at Borden. It was hard to say whether he was dead or simply passed out, but Merlin didn’t check, just grabbed the torched and continued down the hall.  
  


They all followed him, and Arthur didn’t think he imagined Elyan kicking the thief’s leg, muttering ‘ _ **That’s**_ _for shooting Percival, and poisoning us.’  
  
_

Arthur smirked at that.  
  


They came to another flight of steps, and Merlin slowly climbed them, the knights and Arthur right behind him.  
  


They came out to a large, cavernous room, filled with nothing but columns and, right in front of them, a sing pedestal with a white, teardrop shaped egg that darkened into blue at either end.  
  


Merlin huffed a laugh, and Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder before giving him a little shove forward.  
  


Merlin walked down the steps from the opening, and set down the torch.  
  


The knights and Arthur followed him, spreading out, all watching as he carefully placed his hands at the base of the egg.  
  


Borden’s voice, echoing in the empty room, rang out.  
  


“Give it to me.”  
  


Merlin, Arthur, and the knights all whirled around, and while most of the knight’s only placed their hands on the pommels of their blade, Arthur and Gwaine both pulled theirs.  
  


“It’s not _yours_ to take.” Merlin said, his voice heavy and near-shaking with anger. Arthur tightened his grip on his sword.  
  


Borden seemed a little...Off, his movements jerky. “You give it to me, and I will grant you a half-share, Merlin.”  
  


Gwaine snarled, low in his throat, but Merlin stayed...Calm wasn’t really the right word, more like...Arthur couldn’t explain it.  
  


“No, it must go free.”  
  


“Don’t be a fool.” Borden hissed, stepping down slowly. “Think of the power it will bring us, the lands we could rule over,” Borden spread his arms wide. “The riches.”  
  


Merlin had his back completely to the egg, now, and was glaring hard at Borden. “I’m not interest in that.”  
  


“With this dragon at our command, we will live like kings.” Borden was getting closer, and Arthur and the knights edged backwards, closer to Merlin and the egg. They were trying their  
  


best to protect them both, while not interrupting or getting in Merlin’s way, and the other three had now pulled their swords, as well.  
  


“We will have the freedom and power to do as we wish!” Borden tried.  
  


“Dragons cannot be used like that!” Merlin shouted, truly angry, now. “They must be left unshackled, free to roam the earth.”  
  


“But this is your chance, Merlin.” Borden’s voice was less...Demanding, more an attempt at convincing. “Your chance to escape a meaningless life,” The thief’s face was almost gentle, and Arthur grimaced. “Your worthless existence.”  
  


Gwaine nearly lunged, then, but Merlin slammed his hand against the knights chest and held him back, never taking his eyes off Borden as he shook his head. “It’s not my life that’s pitiable, it’s yours. You’ve wasted it,” He huffed, shaking his head more. “For nothing.”  
  


Borden lunged for the torch, picked it up, and held it out as if it were a weapon as he began circling the podium. The knights closed the ranks tighter, and Leon and Arthur both had their swords lined up directly with Borden.  
  


“I pieced together the triskelion. _I_ found the path that led us here. The dragon belongs to _me_! Now hand it over.”  
  


“Are you daft?” Gwaine muttered, taking a step in front of Merlin, who only placed his hand on the knights shoulder.  
  


“No, Borden, I wont.”  
  


Borden shouted, and swung the torch, only for Leon to swing his sword and meet it, the sharpened blade meeting the wood, and sending the flaming cloth spinning away into the darkness of the room. Arthur’s blade was pressed against Borden’s throat a mere second later.  
  


“You are not going to stop me!”  
  


Merlin was scowling as he ducked around Gwaine’s body, and took a stand a few steps in front of Arthur. “Dragon’s are magical creatures, they belong to no man!” Merlin growled, taking another step towards Borden. “They are for the benefit of all.”  
  


Borden scoffed. “What do you know? Huh? You are but a serving boy.”  
  


Arthur couldn’t tell, but he was sure Merlin’s face was pure _rage_ right now. He lifted his head, and squared his shoulders as he spoke, “I am the last dragon lord, and I am warning you. Leave this egg alone.”  
  


Borden growled, and tried to duck around Arthur’s sword, but Merlin lifted his hand up, and an invisible force flung Borden backwards, his impact with the floor hard.  
  


Merlin took a deep breath and turned around, walking over to the egg once again as all but Leon, who still had his focused on the thief, sheathed their swords.  
  


He got his hands on the egg, again, and slowly lifted it.  
  


Around them, the walls began to rumble, and they all shared a look as the room around them began to collapse.  
  


“Run!” Leon called, grabbing Arthur by the arm and tugging him along as they all made their way to the exit, large chunks of stone crumbling down around them.

* * *

Arthur collapsed against the tree in their new camp, breathing heavily as Merlin tended to the gashes Leon had sustained. He’d already tended to Elyan and Gwaine, and Percival and himself weren’t badly injured.  
  


“It’s a long ride back to Camelot. We should rest here for the rest of the day, sleep the night, and start in the morning.”  
  


“Good idea, Sire.” Leon said, nodding as Merlin grabbed at his arm and scrubbed at it with a clean cloth that he’d wet in the stream they were next to.  
  


The other knights and Merlin murmured in agreement, and Percival stood up and went over to Merlin’s bag, digging through the saddlebags. “I’ll make supper tonight, I’m not nearly as good as Merlin, but I’m better than Elyan and Arthur.”  
  


“Oi!” Elyan called, but he was smirking and rolling his eyes as he polished his blade.  
  


“Thank you, Percival, I appreciate it.” Merlin smiled, giving the knight a nod.  
  


Percival nodded back, and Gwaine stood as well.  
  


“I’ll get the campfire started, and set some traps around the camp for some rabbit breakfast tomorrow.”


	5. So walk in the light (You're safe in the promise of it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon broke in about a second, striding over to Aithusa and stopping an arm’s length away, lifting his finger in front of the dragon’s face.
> 
> Aithusa studied it for a second, sniffing at it and poking it with his nose, before he stuck out his tongue and licked at it, and then scrunched his nostrils and pulled away, looking positively disgusted at whatever he may have tasted.
> 
> Leon sighed, and scratched at Aithusa’s snout. “Well, at least I know you won’t try and eat me.”

Arthur watched, a little stunned, as a small dragon, white as the blinding light of the sun, curled itself around Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin himself was grinning widely, and scratching at a spot behind one of the hatchling’s protruding nubs on it's head, which had it stretching it’s neck out and emitting a low, satisfied rumble.  
  


Gwaine was the first to go closer, holding his hand out and approaching slowly, until his fingers replaced Merlin’s on the dragon's head, and the dragon buried it’s head against Gwaine’s arm as he began scratching.  
  


Merlin’s beaming only seemed to grow at that. “His name is Aithusa, it means the light of the sun.”  
  


“Ah...For how he looks?” Arthur asked, crossing his arms.  
  


“Oh, no.” Merlin laughed. “It’s the naming of a dragon that causes it to hatch, it just happened to work extremely well with how he looks.”  
  


Arthur nodded, and cleared his throat. “I see…”  
  


He wasn’t exactly sure how to approach this. Sure, Aithusa was cute, but there had been a sort of disconnect when they were talking about the egg. Now that it was hatched, Arthur was facing the reality that this was a _dragon_ , and it would someday be as big as the dragon that nearly destroyed Camelot.  
  


But now Elyan and Percival were also stroking the dragon, their fingers running down shimmering white scales and drawing soft cooing noises from him.  
  


Lean was shifting awkwardly next to him, and Arthur glanced up at his grimacing face.  
  


“Arthur, Leon,” Merlin called, drawing both of their attentions and giving them a soft look. “Aithusa’s just a baby, he’s not going to be like Kilgharrah, he doesn’t have any grudges.”  
  


Arthur coughed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I understand that, Merlin, but…”  
  


“Oh, untwist your trousers and come pet the baby dragon, Princess.” Gwaine scoffed, grinning as Aithusa slowly crawled off of Merlin’s shoulders and onto Gwaine’s arm, pressing his face into Gwaine’s cheek and nuzzling it, happy coos rumbling his chest as he curled his tail around Gwaine’s wrist and hand.  
  


Leon broke in about a second, striding over to Aithusa and stopping an arm’s length away, lifting his finger in front of the dragon’s face.  
  


Aithusa studied it for a second, sniffing at it and poking it with his nose, before he stuck out his tongue and licked at it, and then scrunched his nostrils and pulled away, looking positively disgusted at whatever he may have tasted.  
  


Merlin doubled over laughing, and Gwaine was desperately holding onto Percival’s offered arm with his free hand to stop from doing the same.  
  


Leon sighed, and scratched at Aithusa’s snout. “Well, at least I know you won’t try and eat me.”  
  


Arthur snorted, and slowly made his own way over, stroking his hand down the length of Aithusa’s smooth scales.

* * *

Arthur blinked, slowly, and did not dare to move. It almost felt like moving would...initiate something, break the moment of perfect silence and perfect stillness.  
  


Gwen blinked, hand still on the tree, and seemed to not be breathing as she took in the scene in front of her.  
  


Merlin coughed, and Arthur winced. Silence was broken, then.  
  


“What,” Gwen said, blinking still, her eyes now trained on the baby dragon that was once again wrapped around Merlin’s torso, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder as the sun beat down on them all. “Is this?”  
  


Merlin swallowed, before grimacing. “It’s a baby dragon?”  
  


“A baby dragon...From the egg you all went to stop Borden getting?”  
  


Arthur nodded, but she was too focused on Merlin, and so it was his answer she took in.  
  


“Er, yes?”  
  


“And it...Hatched…”  
  


“Well…” Merlin paused, and he looked to Arthur and the knights for help. Arthur immediately threw his hands up, he didn’t want _any_ part of this. That was the woman he was planning to marry, after all, and it did not do to make Gwen angry.  
  


An angry Gwen was a scary Gwen.  
  


Merlin scrunched up his nose in annoyance, before turning back to Gwen and letting it drop. “Okay, so to start, I need to tell you something almost completely unrelated, alright?”  
  


Gwen sighed, dropping her hand and coming further into the clearing, before dropping down to the ground on her knees and folding her hands in her lap. “Of course, Merlin.”  
  


Aithusa scrambled off of Merlin and darted over to Gwaine, curling up in the knights lap as he dropped his hand to the dragon’s head and started petting it.  
  


Merlin’s lips twitched in an attempt at a smile, and he reached out and grabbed onto her hands. “Okay, well, here goes.” He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes as he did so, before releasing it slowly and opening them to meet hers. “So, when I was born, I had gold eyes.”  
  


Gwen blinked, slowly, and realization seemed to dawn on her face as Merlin continued speaking.  
  


“Gwen, I was born with magic.”  
  


Gwen nodded, slowly, seeming to take it in. “Alright, that...Alright.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “Suddenly, several things are beginning to make sense.”  
  


She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “Who else…?”  
  


“Knows?” Merlin asked, and at Gwen’s nod, he grimaced painfully. “Well, My mother knows, of course. And Gaius has known since I first came to Camelot, and I told Arthur after...After Lancelot…” He paused, biting his lip and looking down.  
  


Pain flashed across Gwen’s face, as well.  
  


Merlin swallowed, seemed to squeeze Gwen’s hands for a moment. “I told the rest of the knights before this trip, and...Well-” He paused again, and Arthur could see how his shoulders were tightening as he dropped his head lower.  
  


Gwen dipped her head down, and looked up at Merlin’s face, her own all soft sympathy.  
  


“Lancelot knew, too. Had since his first time in Camelot.” He paused, seeming to choke on a sob. “He was the first to truly accept me for it. My mother was always terrified for me, and Gaius...Well, I think for him it’s a mix of fear and...I don’t know, but with Lancelot it was _different_.”  
  


“Oh,” Gwen gasped, straightening and lunging for Merlin, pulling him into a tight hug. He was quick to return it, burying his head into Gwen’s shoulder as she carded her fingers through his hair.  
  


His shoulders were shaking, and it was much like when Arthur had hugged Merlin after finding out about his magic.  
  


“I could...With him, I could be _all_ of me. For the longest time I thought that...That I wasn’t complete without my magic, that if people didn’t know that about me they didn’t know _me_. Lancelot was the one who showed me that, yes, my magic was a part of me, but it wasn’t _all_ of me.”  
  


Arthur felt his brow furrow. Merlin hadn’t told _him_ that. But Gwen seemed to get it, pulling Merlin in to an even tighter hug and rocking him from side to side as she murmured into his ear. And while Merlin had been loud enough for Arthur to catch what he was saying, Gwen wasn’t being.  
  


He sighed, falling back into the grass. The wounds Lancelot’s death had left were still gaping in all of them, but they were perhaps the biggest in Merlin and Gwen. The one who had told him his biggest secret, and the one who felt so guilty over his death.  
  


He flung his arm over his eyes, and barely even flinched this time when Aithusa came sniffling over, before curling himself into the space left between Arthur’s head and shoulder, tucking his head on the divot right blow his collarbone.  
  


The quiet conversation between Merlin and Gwen lasted quite a while, but soon he was awoken out of his light daze by a cough, and lifted his arm from his eyes to see Gwen standing over him, smiling.  
  


“So, what’s the baby’s name, then?”  
  


Merlin smiled next to her, crouching down and holding his arms out for Aithusa, who launched out of his spot, trampled across Arthur’s body, and flung himself into Merlin’s arms.  
  


“His name is Aithusa.”  
  


Gwen’s smile brightened, and as Merlin stood and hold the dragon out to her, she carefully took his head in her hands and rested her forehead against his. “Hello, Aithusa. Aren’t you just the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen?”  
  


Aithusa cooed, making Gwen giggle.  
  


That’s when Arthur knew that, whatever may come, everything would end up alright.


	6. And turn around (Face the shadows and tell them they've no place)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Arthur?” Gwen asked, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
> 
> He pressed his lips together, and tilted his head to look up at her. “I’m fine, Gwen. Just thinking.”
> 
> “About your uncle?”

Arthur sat at his table, fingers steepled and his chin resting upon them.  
  


There was...An issue. And as much as he didn’t want to think about it, the several revelations concerning Merlin told him that he wasn’t as good at noticing things as he thought he was.  
  


Merlin, of course, had never given him reasons to distrust him that he’d shoved away, had only lied to protect his life, but this person...Arthur sighed, dropping his head and letting his forehead take his chins place on his fingers.  
  


He didn’t want to suspect his uncle of anything, but there were just too many inconsistencies.  
  


“Arthur?” Gwen asked, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”  
  


He pressed his lips together, and tilted his head to look up at her. “I’m fine, Gwen. Just thinking.”  
  


“About your uncle?”  
  


He shrugged, and straightened himself out as he reached forward and grabbed the roll of parchment. It certainly wasn’t a good look for Agravaine. Constantly leaving the citadel late at night, going in no direction his guards recognized as anything important, and returning before dawn even broke.  
  


It practically _bled_ suspicious behavior.  
  


“This just doesn’t make any sense.” He huffed, digging a hand into his hair and holding tight. “I’ve even had Merlin go over these, he knows those woods better than anyone else, even Leon’s patrols, and he doesn’t recognize the beginning of the route either, there shouldn’t _be_ anything in that direction.”  
  


Gwen sighed, and looped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug as she pressed her cheek against the top of his head. “We’ll figure this out, Arthur, give it some time and put it aside for a while.” She pulled away and smiled down at him, all soft eyes and gentle. “For now, you need to work on the more pressing matter of Caerleon’s troops.”  
  


Arthur groaned, but nodded and stood up, stretching out his back.  
  


“Right, yes, that is...Yes.” ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make it look at least a little more presentable. “Speaking of-” He sighed, turning back to Gwen. “How is my father doing?”  
  


Her lips twitched, and she looked a little sad. “I think he may be worse than before. His mental health over all is...Better than it was before your birthday, but he’s ill.” She shook her head. “He barely leaves his bed, and seems to be fading. Gaius says that it is due to his age, and though his wound was healed by Merlin, the stress it put on his body…”  
  


He took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I see. Thank you, Gwen. I know you’ve been tending to him, and I can’t express my gratitude enough.” He dropped his hand and gave her a smile.  
  


Gwen smiled back, and patted his upper arm. “I’ll see you after your meeting with the knights and Merlin. I have to get back to him, to make sure he eats something, he’s not been able to keep anything down.”  
  


Arthur nodded. “Thank you, again, Gwen.”

* * *

Arthur was filled near to the brim with nervous energy as he stood outside his father’s chambers, arms crossed and tapping his foot.  
  


The guards were doing everything in their power to look everywhere _but_ him, and he nearly dismissed them, but didn’t.  
  


He took a deep breath, and sighed, before marched towards the doors, the guards reacting with a speed he took note of to open the doors for him.  
  


His father was pale, though not as pale as he had been when he was dying from a stab wound, and Arthur swallowed thickly before striding over to his bedside and taking a seat, folding over at the waist and taking his father’s hand in his.  
  


“Father?”  
  


Uther slowly blinked awake, and turned his head towards him. Gwen was right, he definitely did not look well.  
  


“Father, it’s me, Arthur.”  
  


“Ah,” Uther whispered, voice cracky and quiet, Arthur had to lean in to hear him properly. “My son.”  
  


“Hello, father. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit much. There’s been so much happening that I’ve had to focus my mind on.”  
  


Uther didn’t respond, his eyes were unfocused once again, and he had turned his head away, sighing.  
  


“Father?” Arthur asked, leaning closer to him and feeling his forehead. He wasn’t feverish at all, just unfocused and confused, and he was already drifting back to sleep.  
  


He sighed, dropping his head and shaking it.  
  


He didn’t know what was wrong with his father, because _Gaius_ didn’t know. All they could pin it to was, like Gwen had told him, his age and the stress his wound inflicted on his body, and whatever illness he now had.

* * *

It was barely a week later that Arthur ended up at the round table, surrounded by his most trusted knights, Gwen, and Merlin.  
  


Leon pointed at a spot on the map in front of them, a grim expression on his face. “They’ve started advancing towards the village of Stonedown on the western borders, and the villagers are getting unnerved, they’ve already stopped tending to the outer farmlands in preparation.”  
  


Arthur grimaced, planting his hands against the table and leaning forward. “This can’t go on, we have to start deciding how we’re going to handle this.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’d prefer a peaceful approach, I want to avoid a war. I want to avoid _any_ bloodshed, if I can.”  
  


Leon nodded, “As do I, sire. As do I. But it may not be a choice we’re given.”  
  


“It’s Caerleon, it’s _very_ unlikely there wont be any bloodshed.” Gwaine muttered, a bitter tinge to his words that had Arthur furrowing his brows.  
  


He didn’t know what _that_ was about, something more personal about how Gwaine said it than his usual distaste for nobles, but he had no choice but to shove it aside for the moment.  
  


He opened his mouth to reply, when the doors burst open, and a haggard looking servant stood panting in the entrance, the guards looking startled on either side of him, reaching for but not quite touching him.  
  


“Apologies, sire, but the physician told me to run and get you as fast as possible.”  
  


Arthur straightened, concern filling his veins. “Why? What is it?”  
  


“It’s the king, sire. Gaius feels he is very close to death.”  
  


Arthur froze, his entire body going slack as he nearly missed catching himself on the table, Merlin and Gwen’s hands looping around either of his arms and holding him up.  
  


He couldn’t catch his breath, and he felt light headed as Leon’s hand found it’s way to his shoulder.  
  


“Come, Arthur.” Gwen whispered, running a hand down his arm and linking her fingers with his. “Come. You should say goodbye.”  
  


He swallowed, but nodded. He barely took notice of the murmuring from the others, but he heard when Gwaine spoke up.  
  


“We’ll go with you, Arthur. You won’t be alone through this.”

  
Arthur sighed, and nodded, and let Gwen and Merlin lead him out of the council chambers and towards his father's, and his last moments with him.


	7. And you take up your golden blade (for everything to come, for everything that will be)

Leon watched Merlin as he dozed lightly, head lolled back and pressed against the stone wall, face highlight by the high moon’s light shining in through the windows, and thought about all the things that had changed since the young man had arrived in Camelot.  
  


He remembers, so very vaguely, when Merlin was first assigned to Arthur as his manservant. Remembered thinking he wasn’t likely to last a week, if he’d already been in the dungeons once since his arrival. Remembered joking with Arthur during training.  
  


And then he’d risked everything, charging into the throne room and claiming _he had magic_ to save Gwen from execution. A claim Leon had, once, thought ridiculous, just as Arthur had. But had appreciated nonetheless because Leon _knew_ Gwen, grew up with her underfoot like he imagined a little sister would be.  
  


And then he _drank poison_ for Arthur, and had nearly died, spurring _Arthur_ to risk everything to get the cure for him. And Leon would regret it for the rest of his life, but it wasn’t until then that he was sure that the man he considered a younger brother would make a good, and kind, and just king.  
  


And then, Merlin just _kept doing it_. Kept saving Arthur, from a threat, or from himself. Leon still shuddered thinking about the time when Arthur nearly killed Uther.  
  


And after finding out about the servant’s magic, all of it, how he knew things and how problems just seemed to fix themselves around him, and how Arthur survived and killed so many things that only magic could fix.  
  


Leon’s known Arthur for the whole of the prince’s life, and though he was somewhat ashamed of it, he knew the he could never match the loyalty Merlin displayed for him.  
  


He coughed, and Merlin startled out of his daze and looked up at him, giving him a grimace that Leon was sure was meant to be a smile.  
  


“What are you doing out here, Merlin?”  
  


“Waiting for Arthur.” He shrugged, glancing back at the large chamber doors. “I didn’t want him to be alone…”  
  


Leon nodded, and walked over to stand next to Merlin, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, and smiled down at him. “I didn’t, either.” He sighed, lifting his head and staring out the windows at the night sky, trying to count the endless stars. “Merlin...You know this wasn’t your fault, yes?”  
  


There was a scoff, and Leon had to force himself to not look down at him, keeping his eyes trained on the endless cosmos. “Merlin, it _wasn’t_.”  
  


“And if it was? What if I did something wrong? And I just...Just gave Arthur _hope_? Dragged out the inevitable and prolonged the suffering?”  
  


Leon sighed, and undid his sword from his belt, leaning it against the wall before sinking down and slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “Merlin, I’m no physician, but even I’m rather sure that a wound to the heart, however botched the healing, doesn’t cause an illness like that.”  
  


Merlin still wasn’t looking at Leon, and the knight closed his eyes and jostled the servant a bit.  
  


“Merlin, come on. No wound I’ve ever seen has caused rashes, or vomiting, or confusion. If anything other than general illness, the symptoms more fit some bout of _poisoning_ then a stab wound.”  
  


Merlin blinked, and lifted his head, before whipping it around to face Leon, his eyes wide.  
  


“Leon, you’re on patrols all the time in these woods, do you know of any plants that would cause the symptoms Uther had?”  
  


Leon leaned away from Merlin, taken aback by the bluntness, and gaped slightly. “Merlin, are you sugges-”  
  


“Just-” Merlin cut off, waving his hand as he straightened up, before grabbing Leon by the shoulders. “Just answer the question, Leon.”  
  


“Well, in the surrounding woods, there’s nightshade, but that’d be much more obvious symptoms-”  
  


Merlin rolled his eyes, and Leon got the sense he’d already discarded that.  
  


“If we’re talking these _exact_ symptoms, and if I _had_ to assign a poison to them, I’d say Glovewort, but that’s farther out in an area of the woods we patrol only...Maybe once a month, if that. It’s hard to get to, and that’s not including how it’s guarded by serkets.” He admitted, furrowing his brows. “But, Merlin...What are you?”  
  


But Merlin was already staring off into space, mouth moving but no words coming out, until-  
  


“Agravaine's visits to the forest, Leon.” He whispered harshly, and a cold chill swept over Leon’s body.  
  


“You think…?”  
  


Merlin swallowed, and after collapsing back against the wall, nodded silently.  
  


Leon let his head fall back against the wall, blinking slowly as he absorbed this information.  
  


He tried to imagine Agravaine being the reason Uther was dead. Tried to imagine Agravaine making a dangerous trek to a portion of the woods infested by serkets just to get a flower to poison the- Now former -King.  
  


And he found it _all too plausible_. Agravaine’s odd behaviors, and odder suggestions during council meetings, click, click, clicking into place.  
  


The only question left was, what was his motive? Was it to help Arthur? Or was it something else entirely?  
  


“We can’t tell Arthur...Not until we’re absolutely sure.” Leon muttered.  
  


Merlin murmured something, and just before Leon was going to open his mouth to ask the servant to repeat himself, cleared his throat and raised his voice.  
  


“You’re right. Do you think you can go and tell Gaius to start investigating? I don’t want to leave.” He sighed, looking again towards the large doors. “Just in case he needs me before daylight breaks.”  
  


Leon nodded, and clapped a hand to Merlin’s shoulder, using it as leverage to push himself up. “You’re a good friend, Merlin.”  
  


Merlin shrugged, but smiled all the same, and Leon grabbed his sword and strapped it back onto his belt before leaving.  
  


They had an investigation to start.


	8. And you take up your golden crown (As everything that was comes crashing down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoffrey placed the crown on his head, and Arthur felt a heavy weight ripple through him and settle. He rolled his shoulders as he stood and turned to face everyone. His eyes flicking over to those he was closest to as, one by one, everyone began chanting.
> 
> He couldn’t help the smile the slid onto his face.
> 
> “Long live the king!”

Arthur took a shaky breath as the sun started to stream in through the windows, across the floor, and sending light scattering about the room.  
  


His vigil was over, now. The rules of it done with and no longer needed.  
  


There were no rules for the morning after. And he felt like he was floundering as he stared down at his fathers slack, death-pale face.  
  


He had used the silence and stillness of the night to force himself to shove away all the things he hated about his father. How he was unjust and cruel, too fast to act, too fast to throw anyone below a noble to the wilderness of the horrors of the world, or the dungeons. How he hadn’t even been a good father in any way it mattered to Morgana and himself.  
  


Yes, he had kept them clothed and fed and educated, but he did not care for them, or, if he did, it was only the parts he saw as an extension of himself. He hid Morgana’s heritage from her, leading her to believe she had no one left of her own blood, and he hid the truth of Arthur’s mother and why she died from him, leading him to believe it had been _his_ fault.  
  


And whenever either of them expressed themselves in a way that differed from Uther’s own beliefs, he’d throw them in the dungeons as fast as he would a suspected magic user.  
  


Arthur swallowed, and took another deep breath, and tried to remember the good things, few as they were.  
  


His father, in all his misguided ways, _did_ love them. The both of them. Arthur knew that deep down. Even if the love was incredibly flawed, it still mattered.  
  


It _had_ too, or Arthur had wasted his life trying to please his father, trying to love the man he sometimes _despised_ , because Uther was his _father,_ and he was Uther’s _son._ And it had to count for _something_.  
  


It was why he took the time to say goodbye to those small bits of the man as he kissed Uther’s brow. Tears rolling down his cheeks as he did so. For now, neither he nor Morgana would get the closure of finally telling him, once and for all, that they would not follow in his footsteps.  
  


And as Arthur lifted his head, and basked in the new day’s light, he thought of all he could accomplish, now.

* * *

Arthur sighed as he sat at the table in his chambers, placing an elbow on it and resting his head in his hand as Leon, Merlin, and Gaius took their own seats.  
  


Gwaine and Percival were outside the room, replacing the usual guards that stood there, and Elyan was keeping close to Gwen to keep her safe. None of them were willing to risk anything, and Arthur trusted that Leon had a reason behind insisting on the arrangements.  
  


Merlin laid a small, leather bound book down in front of him, as well as a rather detailed map of the citadel and surrounding area, with several markings made upon it.  
  


He swallowed, and closed his eyes. “I’m going to assume this is something that absolutely cannot wait, then?”  
  


He opened his eyes to see the three of them grimacing, and knew immediately he’d been right. He sighed, and folded his arms over each other. “Alright. Tell me everything.”  
  


Gaius was the first to speak up, though he looked incredibly reluctant to do so. “I reexamined your father, after your vigil and before he was prepared for entombment. I wasn’t sure what to look for until Leon suggested it, and I am deeply sorry for that…”  
  


“Gaius, none of this is your fault. Please-” Arthur waved his hand “Continue.”  
  


Gaius nodded. “I found traces of poisoning. Glovewort poisoning, to be precise.”  
  


Arthur’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Glovewort poisoning?”  
  


“It’s been known to cause rashes, vomiting, delusions, confusion, and…” Gaius trailed off, taking a deep breath. “Eventual heart failure.”  
  


He leaned back again, licking his lips, for they suddenly felt very dry. In fact, his whole mouth and throat felt dry.  
  


Merlin shoved over a glass of water, and Arthur grabbed it and drank it greedily.  
  


_Poisoned.  
  
_

His father had been _poisoned.  
  
_

“Do we know who could have done this? Who, apart from Merlin, Gwen, you, and myself had access to my father’s chambers?”  
  


They all shared a glance, though it was Leon who finally met his eyes.  
  


“Arthur...The only place near to here to get Glovewort is in an extremely hard to get to part of the woods near here, and it’s guarded by serkets.”  
  


Arthur nodded, not quite sure where this was going.  
  


Leon grimaced. “A part of the forest not many of us are familiar with…”  
  


Arthur felt his eyes widen for the second time that evening, and could feel his mouth dropping open in a gape as the realization hit.  
  


“You don’t think-”  
  


Merlin coughed, and interrupted him, looking for all the world like one of his hunting dogs when they get a thorn stuck in their paw after trampling through some hidden brambles. “I used a spell to reveal his tracks to me...And I marked it on the map-” He tapped on the map in front of Arthur. “-As I went...Arthur…” Merlin sighed, shaking his head. “Arthur, they lead _straight_ to a serket nesting ground, absolutely _surrounded_ by Glovewort.”  
  


Arthur stared down at the map, looking at the spot underneath Merlin’s fingers, and tried to absorb all of this information.  
  


“And Agravaine has access to his chambers." Arthur said, sighing as he buried his head in his hands. "So...My uncle killed my father…”  
  


“It would appear so, sire.” Leon murmured, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and squeezing. His form of apology.  
  


“Well...I suppose we’re going to have to keep a close eye on him from here on out.”  
  


“Arthur?” Merlin asked, tilting his head. The other two seemed confused as well, and Arthur straightened his shoulders and lifted his head.  
  


“I don’t want Agravaine knowing we’re on to him...And I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s working for Morgana, otherwise why didn’t the serkets sting him? It has to be magic, yes?”  
  


Merlin nodded slowly, at that, as realization dawned on the three faces around him.  
  


“So, we sit, we wait, we watch. And when the right time comes, that’s when we strike.”  
  


“Arthur…” Merlin began, looking uncomfortable. Arthur sighed, and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a shake.  
  


“We’ll get Morgana’s hiding spot out of Agravaine, and then? We’ll bring her _home_. Show her it’ll be different, now that Uther’s gone.”  
  


That got Merlin to start smiling. A small, uncertain one, that didn’t quite hide the shadows in his eyes. But a smile all the same. A little light of hope in the darkness of his self-doubt.

* * *

Arthur lifted his head high as he stood before the throne room doors, his regalia flowing from his shoulders as the guards opened them.  
  


The room was packed, and Arthur felt his feet freeze for a moment, before he saw the crown in Geoffrey’s hands, and he swallowed as the trumpets began blowing.  
  


He strode down the middle, and knelt.  
  


“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?”  
  
  
“I solemnly swear so to do.”  
  
  
“Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”  
  
  
“I will.”  
  
  
“Then by the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you Arthur, King of Camelot!”  
  


Geoffrey placed the crown on his head, and Arthur felt a heavy weight ripple through him and settle. He rolled his shoulders as he stood and turned to face everyone. His eyes flicking over to those he was closest to as, one by one, everyone began chanting.  
  


He couldn’t help the smile the slid onto his face.  
  


“Long live the king!”


	9. And you take up your golden eyes (As everything changes around you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur pouted, and earned a kick to the shin from Gwaine, who wasn’t even looking in his direction, too focused on the flower crown he was weaving. “Oh, just go pet the baby dragon, princess. Maybe you’ll calm down.”

Arthur collapsed into his chair once they’d reached his chambers, and Merlin hurried over to start peeling away his regalia. Arthur gave him a small smile, and Merlin couldn’t help smiling back.  
  


“Merlin.” He called, and Merlin looked up from carefully folding the red, fur trimmed monstrosity, blinking.  
  


“Yes?”  
  


“Bring me the parchments from the top right door in my desk.” He said, grabbing an apple from the bowl that had been brought by as soon as they had gotten to the chamber doors. “And have the knights, Gwen, and Gaius come here.”  
  


Merlin nodded, setting the folded cape on the bed and crossing over to the desk, gathering the papers from the drawer and setting them in front of Arthur, before turning his hand over and placing his other over the exposed underside of his wrist.  
  


“Acennan tréowe.”  
  


Arthur looked up at with a raised brow as he arranged his parchments into some order that Merlin was sure made sense to the pri- To the king.  
  


Merlin only lifted his own brow, his lips twitching into a smile.  
  


“I’m not going to ask.” Arthur laughed, shaking his head.  
  


“Oh, come on, it’s not anything bad.”  
  


“Not. Asking.”  
  


Merlin snorted, and planted his hands on the table, leaning forward to try and see what Arthur was looking at. It seemed to be a bunch of old parchments, carefully preserved, mixed with new ones, freshly written on, some not even very full yet.  
  


“And what’s this, then?”  
  


Arthur looked up at him and smiled, before pulling one of the older parchments from a pile he had made and handing it to Merlin.  
  


He took it, letting his eyes soak up the words, and very nearly let it slip from his hands. It felt like the breath was knocked out of him.  
  


“These are…”  
  


Arthur hummed, nodding. “The old laws concerning magic, I’m sure they’re dated, and we’ll have to adjust for any new findings concerning magic that can be used for good, and for bad, but it’s certainly a start.”  
  


Merlin grinned, and set the paper back down as the chamber doors opened.  
  


The knights, Gwen, and Gaius all entered, and Arthur stood and gestured to the chairs at his table. And once everyone had sat down, he gave Merlin a look.  
  


Merlin raised his eyebrow in confusion, and Arthur rolled his eyes and kicked at the leg of the chair that Merlin was standing next to. “Sit _down_ , _Mer_ lin.”  
  


“Oh!” he blinked, taking the seat and scooting the chair back in. Arthur rolled his eyes again, but smiled as he sat back down.  
  


“Now, Merlin. Is there anyway that you can prevent people overhearing our conversation?”  
  


Merlin nodded, and pulled his spell book from his satchel that lay on the table, flipping through the pages until he came to the one he needed, and running his finger down until it stopped at one that would work.  
  


He took a breath and lifted his hands, letting the words spill from his lips. “Bewarian usser dióhlu.”  
  


He let his hands drop, then tilted his head and closed his eyes, feeling the magic ripple outwards and encase the room, before opening his eyes again and nodding at Arthur. “We’re good.”  
  


Arthur smiled, and then turned to the others. “Do you know why you’re all here?”  
  


Gwaine snorted, leaning forward with a smirk on his lips. “I think we can all make an educated guess, princess. It’s about legalizing magic, yeah?”  
  


Arthur nodded, “Yes. I’ve been working on this, steadily and slowly, since we got back from the isles.” Arthur adjusted some of the piles, giving small portions of material to everyone at the table. “I’ve had Geoffrey gather all he could on the old laws concerning it, from before my father banned it. I want us all to go other a portion of it every day until we’ve learned all we can.”  
  


Elyan raised a brow. “You can’t expect us to just carry these around in the open?”  
  


Arthur shook his head, “They’ll be put in a spare room that I’ll have converted to a proper...Small library, of sorts. Only those of us in this room will know the location of it. Understood?”  
  


The others nodded, and Merlin grinned wide. This was _progress._ Real, actual _progress_. And though it had to be done in relative secrecy, to keep it from the council until they had a higher ground to stand on, it was still something they were working towards.  
  


But a few more moments later, his smile dropped, and he slumped in his chair.  
  


Arthur’s hand on his shoulder startled him, and the concerned faces everyone had him almost flushing in embarrassment.  
  


“Merlin?” Arthur asked, tilting his head and furrowing his brows. “Are you alright?”  
  


He swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears before he gave up and brought his hands to wipe them away. “Yes, I’m-” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just wish Lancelot could’ve been here.”  
  


Arthur frowned, and sighed as he pulled him into a tight side hug, Gwen standing up from her own chair and hugging him from the other side.  
  


He sighed again, leaning into Gwen and hooking his arm around Arthur’s. Smiling a little as Gwaine threw half his body across the table to pat his hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

* * *

They were in an incredibly dusty hallway. Several doors were boarded over, and they stood in front of one near the end of it.  
  


The boards that had been blocking this one had already been pried down, and lay askew off to the side, and now Merlin watched as Arthur slowly inserted the key into the lock, and turned it. He seemed hesitant, nervous. His hand pressed against the wood of the door, his forehead nearly pressed next to it.  
  


The king took a deep breath, and Leon put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a comforting look.  
  


And then he opened the door to a large, finely decorated room, sunlight pouring in through the large windows and giving the entire thing a near golden-like glow as it highlighted the dust floating in the air.  
  


Merlin blinked as he walked in, taking in just how grand it was. What really drew his attention were the numerous bookcases stuffed full of countless books and rolls of parchment and beautiful trinkets.  
  


Arthur took another deep breath, his fingers carving through the dust that had settled on the dresser. “These were my mother’s private chambers. No one will bother us here, especially not my uncle.”  
  


Arthur sighed, turning back around to them. “We’ll have to clean it up, first. But after that, this should work as a good place to study all we can without being discovered.”

* * *

Merlin sighed, running his hand down Aithusa’s scales as he sat on the boulder. It had been about two and a half weeks since Arthur’s coronation, and Caerleon’s forces had taken Stonedown three days ago.  
  


Everyone was on edge, and Arthur had been running himself ragged until Gwen, the knights, and himself had practically ambushed him to drag him away from the citadel.  
  


Even still, he was pacing back and forth across the clearing, thumbnail pinned between his teeth as he muttered.  
  


“Ar _thur_ ,” Gwen called, exasperated. “Come sit down and eat something.”  
  


Arthur waved dismissively. “I can’t, I have to focus.”  
  


“Arthur!” She huffed, pushing herself up and planting her hands on her hips. “You’re going to drive yourself mad. You need to clear your head, so sit down, eat some food, and let yourself relax for the afternoon.”  
  


Arthur pouted, and earned a kick to the shin from Gwaine, who wasn’t even looking in his direction, too focused on the flower crown he was weaving. “Oh, just go pet the baby dragon, princess. Maybe you’ll calm down.”  
  


“ _Gwaine_.”  
  


“ _Arthur_. Come on,” Gwaine scoffed, dropping the in-progress flower crown in his lap and leaning back on his elbows to look up at Arthur. “This is how Caerleon’s strategy works. He wears you down through constant attacks at your border villages, and then, while you’ve got your focus on what village he might strike next, he comes in and strikes at the heart.”  
  


He lifted one of his brows. “Now, sit down, eat something, pet Aithusa, calm down, and go back to planning once you’ve gotten that thick head of yours cleared.”  
  


Arthur sat down, but he didn’t reach for any food, nor for Aithusa. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Gwaine. Not suspiciously, just curiously, and tilted his head. “Gwaine?”  
  


Gwaine hummed, already back off his elbows and working on the flower crown again. Though with how tight his shoulders were, Merlin was sure he was just using it as a shield of some sort, because if _he_ had a feeling about where this was going, he was sure Gwaine did, too.  
  


“Gwaine...How do you know so much about Caerleon? This isn’t the first time you’ve commented on him during these sorts of discussions.”  
  


Gwaine shrugged. “I’ve been in his kingdom before, Arthur.”  
  


“I can see that being true, but, Gwaine…” Arthur sighed, leaning forward. “You were just talking about his _strategy_. And you were talking like you knew all about it, instead of just guessing on it like we’ve all been doing.”  
  


Gwaine sighed, once again dropping the flower crown, and lifted his head to glare at Arthur. “It’s not really any of your business, Arthur. We’re friends, I’m loyal to you, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He huffed, seemed to pull into himself. “Now, can we drop it?”  
  


Arthur bit his lip, before a determined look crossed his features. “No.”  
  


Gwaine was quick to glare at him, mouth open, but Arthur put up his hand to stop him.  
  


“No, we can’t drop it.” Arthur sighed, dropping his hand onto Gwaine’s shoulder and squeezing. “You’ve been withdrawn since we started with this whole Caerleon business, and I want to know why. Not because I don’t trust you, but because we’re friends, and I’m worried about you.”  
  


Gwaine huffed, rolling his eyes and looking away. “It’s…” He sighed, blowing harshly past his lips as he shut his eyes.  
  


Aithusa seemed to sense his distress, and he launched himself out of Merlin’s lap and into Gwaine’s, nuzzling his head under Gwaine’s chin. Gwaine lifted his hand and began petting down Aithusa’s scales, scratching lightly under one of his wings.  
  


“My father...He was a knight in Caerleon’s army.” Gwaine shrugged, trying for all the world to seem nonchalant. “I didn’t know him well. Hardly at all, really, more through stories than anything else.” He began fiddling with the ring on the chain around his neck. “He was sent away to fight when I was young…And he never came home.”  
  


Gwaine looked up and met Arthur’s eyes. “When my mother went to Caerleon, for help after his death, he turned her away. It didn’t matter to him how loyal my father had been his _entire_ life. Without him alive, we weren’t contributing anything to the aide of the kingdom during a time of unrest, so we weren’t worth any help.”  
  


The woods seemed entirely silent. Even the wind blowing through the grass had stopped.  
  


And then, Arthur sighed, scooting over to Gwaine and pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Gwaine.”  
  


Gwaine heaved out a heavy sounding breath, resting his forehead in the crook of Arthur’s neck.  
  


It took a few moments, but soon enough the rest of them had surrounded Gwaine, offering their own comfort to the knight.


	10. And you take up your golden name (Dust it off, the past is coming for you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s up, princess?” Gwaine asked, taking a sip of water from his cup.
> 
> Arthur snorted. “Shouldn’t it be ‘Queen.’ Now? Or something?”
> 
> “Nope~!” Gwaine chuckled, leaning into Arthur. “Forever going to be princess. Can’t change it.”

“And you’re positive you know the plan?” Arthur asked, adjusting the red cape around Merlin’s chainmail covered shoulders.  
  


Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes, batting away Arthur’s hands. “Yes, Arthur, I’m positive.”  
  


“Are you _su-”  
  
_

“ _Arthur!”  
  
_

Arthur frowned as he pulled away, crossing him arms. “I’m just trying to make sure, if this fails…”  
  


Merlin gave him a _look_ , and Arthur quieted down and took another step back.  
  


Gwaine snorted, taking a bite of his apple from his spot upon one of the downed tree logs, letting himself be jostled as Percival and Elyan play-wrestled next to him. Merlin was fully donned in a light armor. The plate left off for ease of movement.  
  


And Merlin would need all the ease of movement he could get. His speed alone wouldn’t be enough, no matter _how_ fast he was. And Gwaine could admit the guy was, in fact, _very_ fast.  
  


Gwaine swallowed his bite, and laughed as he was immediately knocked off the log and to the ground by one of Elyan’s elbows. Elyan winced down at him, momentarily pausing his struggle to get out of Percival’s hold.  
  


“Sorry, Gwaine.”  
  


Gwaine waved him off as he pushed himself up to his feet. “You’re fine.” He told him, picking up the apple and chucking it over in the direction of his horse.  
  


Elyan grinned at him and nodded, and resumed his and Percival’s wrestling as Gwaine made his way over to Leon, who was standing, arms crossed, by the stream.  
  


Their camp was a bit further away from everyone else, providing them plenty of privacy to discuss Merlin’s part of the plan without anyone overhearing them. Not that Lord Aggravating liked that much. Had insisted being part of it if they were going to be so separate from the rest of the knights.  
  


Arthur had played him like a fiddle to get him to stay with the company, and Gwaine couldn’t help but smile at the memory as he crouched down by the head knight, dipping his fingers into the cool water.  
  


“Are you alright?” Leon asked, crouching down next to him, letting his wrists rest on his knees.  
  


Gwaine sighed, and rolled his eyes. Ever since he’d told them all of his past a few days ago, all of them were constantly checking up on him. And he appreciated it at first, liked knowing his friends really did care because it showed they still, somehow, weren’t getting sick of him.  
  


But now...Well, he still appreciated it, but it was odd to him, because the ‘ _Proper amount of time to care’_ as he saw it had passed, and yet they were still doing it.  
  


He couldn’t wrap his head around it.  
  


“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Leon”  
  


Leon smiled, and nudged Gwaine’s arm with his elbow. “Of course.”

* * *

Gwaine sat on a log and glared at Caerleon across the camp. Felt the anger boiling in his gut, but knew he had to keep it tempered and low.  
  


Arthur sat down next to him, and heaved out a large breath, his shoulders low and his head resting on his arms, which were folded over his knees. He looked like he was bearing the weight of the entire world.  
  


“What’s up, princess?” Gwaine asked, taking a sip of water from his cup.  
  


Arthur snorted. “Shouldn’t it be ‘ _Queen_.’ Now? Or something?”  
  


“Nope~!” Gwaine chuckled, leaning into Arthur. “Forever going to be princess. Can’t change it.”  
  


Arthur laughed, and sat back, letting his elbows rest against the log on either side of his body, and his head hang back as he gazed up at the stars.  
  


“I need your help with something.” Arthur muttered, and Gwaine leaned back himself.  
  


“Yeah? What?”  
  


He sighed, and whatever levity the beginning of their conversation had given him was washed away.  
  


“My uncle wants me to propose a treaty with Caerleon, and if he doesn’t accept, kill him.”  
  


Gwaine fiercely shoved down the near volcanic eruption of the pettiness that told him to say ‘ _Screw the treaty all together._ ’ Arthur was a king, he couldn’t just randomly execute other kings. So, he took a deep breath.  
  


“What does he say the treaty should be?”  
  


Arthur sighed. “He must withdraw his men from our land, return our territories to us. He must surrender Everwick.”  
  


Gwaine snorted, shaking his head. “So, what you’re saying is; Your uncle wants you to kill Caerleon.”  
  


Arthur tilted his head to look at Gwaine, brows furrowed. “I…” He sighed, again. “Yes, it seems that way...What do you think?”  
  


“Everwick is a major resource village, the main source of food for the kingdom because of it’s large amount of farm-able and livestock appropriate land.” Gwaine sat up straight, and began tangling his fingers together. “Taking Everwick means, in practicality, condemning his entire kingdom to a slow death. None of the other farms, even put together, will provide enough food to feed everyone. The nobles will get first pickings as food begins to dwindle, so the villagers responsible for the farms themselves will slowly starve, and when that’s happened, there would be no one left to actually farm.”  
  


Gwaine shook his head, “If Caerleon ever _did_ agree to that, Queen Annis would have his skin.”  
  


Arthur sat up as well, and stared into the fire. “So, just keep our kingdoms as is? Demand he return our territories and leave it at that?”  
  


Gwaine sighed. “No,” He said, turning to look at Arthur. “No, we need to deter him, show him there are downsides to deciding to attacking us, but we shouldn’t be going for his most valuable land.” He blinked, and turned away again. “We need something that’ll be a blow, but not a killing one.”  
  


“Then...What do you suggest?”  
  


Gwaine smiled. “The land of Orkney. It’s a noble’s land on the border.”  
  


Arthur hummed. “Do you think he’ll agree to it?”  
  


He nodded, standing from the log and stretching out his back. “Yes, I do. And more importantly, so will the lady of Orkney. Her husband won’t like it, but seeing as he’s the second husband, and she's got a son by the first, he’s got no say over the lands. No matter how much he wants it.”  
  


“Oh?” Arthur asked, standing as well and crossing his arms, his brow raised. “You know that for sure?”  
  


“Yes,” Gwaine grinned, now. “The lady of Orkney is my mother, after all. Trust me on this, Arthur.”  
  


Arthur snorted, and slapped his hand against Gwaine’s shoulder as he grinned. “Of course I trust you, Gwaine. Now, come, help Merlin and I write up the treaty.”

* * *

By the time morning came, Gwaine was exhausted, but the treaty was written _perfectly_.  
  


He stretched as he stood up from his spot on the ground, yawning as he did so.  
  


Arthur was just finishing rolling up the parchment, ink now perfectly dry, and sealing it. And Merlin was just waking up from his dozing. He’d dropped off soon after they’d finished the rough base of writing it, and refining most of it, and all that had been left then was refining the language surrounding Orkney.  
  


Arthur met his eyes, and gave him a tired smile, which Gwaine returned, nodding.  
  


In a few moments, it would be presented to Caerleon, and then everything would be up in the air.  
  


Merlin yawned as he pushed himself into a sitting position, and Arthur held out a hand, locking his fingers around Merlin’s elbow when reached his own arm out and tugging him up.  
  


“Are we ready?” Arthur asked, looking between the two of them.  
  


Merlin grinned, still bleary eyed, and nodded. Gwaine gave one bob of his head, and held out his hand, holding Arthur’s elbow tight as they shook hands.  
  


Arthur took in a large, deep breath, and then slowly blew it out as he stood at the exit to the tent. Gwaine rolled his eyes and shoved the flap open, gesturing widely for him to just get on with it.  
  


Arthur glared at him, but there was a light in his eyes and a soft upwards quirk of his lips as he left, Merlin nearly on his heels.  
  


Gwaine took a moment to close his eyes and take a breath himself, and then followed the two out to where the rest of the knights were assembled around Caerleon.  
  


Arthur had already handed the scroll to Lord Aggravating, who in turn held it out to Caerleon.  
  


Caerleon scowled. “What is this?”  
  


Lord Aggravating handed the scroll over to Leon, who opened it and showed it to Caerleon.  
  


“You expect me to sign this? To humiliate myself before you?”  
  


Arthur sighed, lifting his head and cutting off Lord Aggravating, who had already opened his mouth to speak. “You invaded our kingdom, you raided our villages, your people stole from the villagers, and you took lands that did not belong to you.”  
  


“And if I do not sign?”  
  


Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them and meeting Caerleon’s eyes. “I think you already know. But I’d like to avoid it if I can.”  
  


Caerleon scoffed, “And who makes these terms?”  
  


“Myself, Arthur Pendragon,” Arthur said, taking a step towards Caerleon. “King of Camelot,” He paused, and turned, gesturing towards Gwaine. “And a trusted knight of mine, you should recognize him. His father was a knight of yours before his death, his name was Loth of Orkney.”  
  


Gwaine lifted his head and folded his hands together behind his back.  
  


Caerleon seemed to take that in, blinking slowly as he stared at him, before looking back to Arthur.  
  


“Very well.” He held out a hand, and flexed his fingers. “I shall need something to write with.”  
  


Merlin walked over with a quill and an ink pot, and Caerleon dipped it once as Leon held the parchment taut, and flourished his signature across the bottom.  
  


Arthur took the quill next, dipped it once in the ink pot, and added his own signature to the parchment.  
  


“Now, if you will join me in my tent, I already have a copy waiting, we’ll sign it, as well, and then both our kingdoms will have it.”  
  


Caerleon nodded, and Leon led both kings into Arthur’s tent, Merlin following.  
  


Gwaine smiled, and turned to walk over to Elyan and Percival, ignoring Lord Aggravating’s glare into his back.


	11. The wind changes swiftly (Adjust your sails accordingly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine swung his pole, and lightly tapped the side of Arthur’s neck, grinning as he did so. “Oh, dear. Seems I’ve committed regicide, just now.”
> 
> Arthur laughed, shoving Gwaine’s pole away as he rolled his eyes. “Luck.”
> 
> “Skill! And you know it, princess!”

Arthur sighs as he pours over the court documents that had accumulated while he was dealing with Caerleon, his eyes pained and his head aching as he rubbed at his temples.  
  


The knocking at his door is like a battering ram, and he sighs again and lifts his head to look at it. “Come.” He calls.  
  


His uncle enters, and quirks his lip in a, Arthur is sure falsely, regretful smile. “I am sorry to disturb you, my lord.”  
  


“Something the matter, uncle?”  
  


“I dare to hope that my advice has been of some use these past months.”  
  


Arthur shifted, attempting to quell the unease and not a little anger in his gut. He swallowed thickly, and forced himself to dip his head in a nod as he furrowed his brows. “Of course it has, you know that.”  
  
  
“There is something I wish to discuss with you.” Agravaine sighed, placing his hands over the top of one of the chairs. “But…It is a delicate matter.”  
  
  
“Yes?”  
  


“It concerns Guinevere.”  
  


Arthur had to suppress his scowl, had to force himself to remain calm and composed. “What about her?”  
  
  
“She's a beautiful woman, sire, and possessed of many fine qualities, I have no doubt. But she is a servant.”  
  
  
“That doesn’t matter to me.” Arthur stated, turning back to the documents. He was already done with this conversation.  
  
  
Agravaine seemed to rush to reassure him, but his voice was too fast, too...Something. It sounded like a lie when he spoke. “Nor to me, I assure you. No, I-” He seemed to stutter, at just the right time to make it sound genuine “-It’s your people that concern me.”  
  
  
Arthur rose his eyebrows at that, and lifted his head to look at his uncle one again. “I’m not sure what you mean, uncle? The _people_ of Camelot love Guinevere, she’s grown up among and with so many of them, she’s well known throughout the lower town and the castle.”  
  


“That wasn’t exactly what I-”  
  
  
Arthur rose his hand to cut through the air. “And if it’s nobles and advisors you’re worried about, I’ll remind them that my father married for love,” Arthur wasn’t entirely sure about that, these days, but that’s what everyone believed, so he’d use the story to his advantage. “He just happened to fall in love with someone of noble birth.”  
  
  
“Sire, I know you are young, but just because you are king does not mean you can do whatever you please. You must present yourself in an appropriate manner. The people...Your people do not wish to see their king with the daughter of a blacksmith.”  
  
  
Arthur stood, and planted his hands on his table as he leaned towards Agravaine, suddenly viciously glad that Gwaine continued to call him ‘ _Lord Aggravating.’_ In privacy. It certainly fit.  
  
  
“Would you like to _ask_ my people? I can assure you, they would be over joyed with Guinevere as their queen.” He sighed, and stood straight, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. “I do appreciate your council in certain matters, uncle, but I already _know_ my people, I’ve lived here my entire life. You? You have yet to be here a _year_ , so do not come to me on what _my_ people wish to see.”  
  
  
“Arth-”  
  
  
“Leave, please. I’ve important work to get back to.”  
  
  
“Yes, sire.”  
  
  
The chamber doors closed, and only then did Arthur throw down his quill and collapse back into his chair, slapping his hands to his face and groaning.  
  


A few moments later, the door opened again, though this time without a knock beforehand, and Arthur sighed in relief because that mean it was only Merlin. No one else did that, after all.  
  


“Agravaine just left, so I assume that’s why you look like you’ve just tasted something that Elyan cooked.”  
  


Arthur snorted, and dropped his hands to smile at Merlin. “Is it really that obvious?”  
  


Merlin laughed, nodding. “Yes, it’s that obvious.”  
  


He laughed, shaking his head as he cleared the papers away so Merlin could set down his platter of food. He picked up one of the drumsticks and held it out to Merlin, who took it as he sat down.  
  


“So, a treaty with Caerleon. How are you feeling about it?”  
  


Arthur sighed, and began tearing apart another piece of meat as he thought it over. “Hopefully it will be beneficial in the long run.”  
  


Merlin nodded, and took a bite of his drumstick, chewing slowly as he furrowed his brows. He swallowed, then sighed and lifted his free hand, his eyes glowing as he muttered the silencing spell he’d used the last time they had been discussing magic in Arthur’s chambers.  
  


Arthur rose his eyebrow in confusion, but didn’t say anything as Merlin smiled at him and leaned forward, already speaking.  
  


“I was looking at some documents from before the purge, and some surviving ones from the beginning of it. Caerleon isn’t opposed to magic, he just never put a stop to Uther coming into his kingdom.”  
  


He furrowed his brows, now even more confused but for an entirely different reason. “Why not?”  
  


“Because, Uther, throughout the purge, constantly had a large company stationed on the border near Everwick, ready to take it and burn it to the ground.”  
  


“A stranglehold, then.” Arthur sighed, shaking his head. “The only way Caerleon could breathe is if he had just…”  
  


“Let Uther do as he wished, yes.”  
  


Arthur sighed, again, and buried his head in his hands. “And Agravaine would have had me walk in my father’s footsteps, but go another twenty steps further.”  
  


Merlin audibly grimaced. “It seems so.”  
  


Arthur lifted his head out of his hands, and met Merlin’s eyes. “So, it’s a definite thing that all he’s doing, it’s not for _my_ benefit.”  
  


Merlin shook his head. “No, this is definitely him and an outside force, probably Morgana, like you guessed, working together.”  
  


Arthur nodded, slowly, and then sighed. “So, once we get started on repealing the ban, we can trust Caerleon to be on our side for it. Possibly even look at any laws they had, or have.”  
  


Merlin nodded, “It seems that way.”  
  


Arthur smiled, and took a bite of one of the potatoes. “Good to know.”

* * *

Arthur blocked easily as Gwaine came at him, adjusting the wooden practice pole with ease as he maneuvered backwards. Gwaine didn’t let up, though, and managed to slide his pole up between Arthur’s body and his own pole, wrenching it from his hands.  
  


Gwaine swung his pole, and lightly tapped the side of Arthur’s neck, grinning as he did so. “Oh, dear. Seems I’ve committed regicide, just now.”  
  


Arthur laughed, shoving Gwaine’s pole away as he rolled his eyes. “Luck.”  
  


“Skill! And you know it, princess!”  
  


He shook his head, and accepted the towel that Merlin threw at him, wiping down his chest to dry the sweat off.  
  


Leon walked onto the training grounds, hand clutched around a scroll, and Arthur met his eyes and lifted a brow.  
  


“Sire, a messenger from Caerleon has arrived”  
  


“Oh?” He asked, taking his tunic from Merlin and tugging it over his head. “What is it?”  
  


Leon held out the scroll as he spoke, “King Caerleon and Queen Annis have invited you for a feast, to celebrate the treaty, and to meet with the lady of Orkney.”  
  


Arthur hummed, nodding. “I see, thank you, Leon.”  
  


“Of course, sire.”  
  


“Merlin.” He called, turning to see Merlin laughing with Gwaine over something. He quickly sobered, though didn’t stop grinning, and rose his eyebrows as an indication he was listening. “Will you go start on a response?” He asked, holding the scroll out to him.  
  


Merlin nodded, taking it. “Of course. An acceptance, yes?”  
  


“Yes.”  
  


“Right, then.” He turned to Gwaine and shrugged, laughing a little. “Duty calls.”  
  


Gwaine laughed, too, and bowed low enough for Arthur to roll his eyes and snort. “Why of course, royal correspondent writer, off you go.”  
  


Arthur picked up his pole and tapped Gwaine on the back of the head. “Back to training with you.”  
  


Gwaine snorted, shoving away Arthur’s pole as he headed back towards Elyan and Percival.  
  


“Have fun with your royal duties!”  
  


He rolled his eyes, snorting again, and left, handing his training pole to Leon as he went.

* * *

Arthur had eaten at Gwen’s place that night, and had stayed late talking with her, and he had only just stumbled into his chambers when Merlin looked up and grinned, and Arthur shut the chamber doors, allowing Merlin to preform his silencing spell before he began talking.  
  


“So I’ve got the rough draft written. Exactly who are you going to be taking along to the feast?” Merlin asked, cross legged on the bed and using a large platter that he had to have brought up here for just the purpose of using it as a writing surface.  
  


Arthur started stumbling his way over to the changing screen, fingers hooking around the hem of his tunic. “The round table, save for Gaius. He’ll need to stay here to keep on eye on Agravaine, and of course as physician.”  
  


Merlin nodded, and scribbled a few things down on the parchment as Arthur tugged his tunic off, rolling his shoulders to try and get the stiffness in them to release.  
  


“Just the round table? Or do you have anyone else in mind, as well?” Merlin called as Arthur stepped behind the changing screen.  
  


Arthur hummed, considering it. There wasn’t really anyone else he _wanted_ to take, but it felt like Merlin was trying to nudge him in a particular direction.  
  


“I don’t think so, why?”  
  


“Oh,” Merlin huffed. “Never mind. You’re still a cabbagehead, apparently.”  
  


Arthur finished pulling his nightshirt over his head, and leaned around the changing screen, squinting his eyes at the servant.  
  


“Well now you’re upset, so clearly I said the wrong thing.”  
  


Merlin gave him one of his signature _looks_ , and Arthur couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he ducked back behind the screen to finish changing. “Words, _Mer_ lin, you’re fully capable of using them.”  
  


Merlin sighed, and there was the familiar _thump_ of a body hitting his bed. “Your _brain_ , Arthur, despite how you act, _you_ are fully capable of actually using _it_ ” He said, and Arthur was sure he was rolling his eyes right about now. “Caerleon’s fine with magic, we’ve got a plan to repeal the ban on magic, It’s just the round table going, your name is Pen _dragon_ , your crest _is a_ _ **dragon**_.”  
  


Arthur blinked, Merlin couldn’t be suggesting... _Surely not_. He leaned back around the changing screen. “You’re not saying we should bring _Aithusa_?”  
  


Merlin propped himself up on his elbows, and raised his eyebrows in a very ‘ _And if I was?’_ Sort of way.  
  


Arthur let his face drop into his hand as he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his other hand settled on his hip. “You’re saying we should bring Aithusa.”  
  


Merlin was silent, so Arthur peeked between his fingers to see him grinning madly, a certain glint in his eyes that Arthur didn’t really _like.  
  
_

“Oh, _fine_ , we’ll bring the bloody dragon. But you’re going to be in charge of him the entire time.”  
  


“You can try and make that a rule, Arthur, but you know Gwaine and Gwen will break it.”  
  


Arthur sighed deeply. He _did_ know that, those two were obsessed with Aithusa.  
  


He finished changing, and came back out to see Merlin had already scrambled off the bed and pulled back the covers.  
  


“I’ll go finish and polish this, it’ll be ready for you to approve, sign, and send off sometime tomorrow. Goodnight, Arthur!”  
  


Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he pulled the covers over himself. “Goodnight, Merlin.”  
  


Merlin gave him one last smile, and slipped out of Arthur’s chambers, the doors closing near silently, and Arthur slowly let himself drift into sleep.  
  


He could only hope the trip to the kingdom of Caerleon, and the celebratory feast, went well. It would be nice to have another kingdom to go to for guidance on returning magic.


	12. You stand with your toes against weather beaten wood (And breathe in the sea salt air of change)

Arthur sat at his table, bouncing his leg nervously as Merlin went around his room packing. There was a ring, already securely packaged away in Merlin’s leather satchel, safe alongside his spell book.  
  


He was waiting for Agravaine to arrive, because they couldn’t afford him becoming suspicious that they were on to him, and the best way to avoid that would to be filling him in on the plans Arthur had for the feast that would be obvious upon their return.  
  


They had to act as if Arthur still had trust in him. Which meant telling him of these sorts of things  
  


Agravaine entered, and Arthur lifted his head to meet his uncles eyes, a force smile on his face as he rose from his chair. “Uncle.”  
  


“It’s late, Arthur, What’s troubling you?  
  


Arthur waved his hand, and shook his head. “Nothing, nothing at all.” He stood, and folded his hands behind his back. “I’ve made a decision, and I felt it only right to inform you right away. Though-” He let a small chuckle slip past his lips, and ducked his head. “I feel you’re not going to like what I’m going to say…”  
  


Agravaine furrowed his brows, taking a step forward as he opened his mouth to, Arthur was sure, prod.  
  


“I’m going to marry Guinevere.”  
  


He watched Merlin smile out of the corner of his eye, though the servant hid it by continuing to pack tunics and pants.  
  


“That is,” Arthur added. “If she says yes. I plan to propose during the treaty feast at Caerleon.”  
  


“Sire-” Agravaine started, but Arthur cut a hand through the air, shaking his head.  
  


“No. I know what you're going to say. ‘ _She's a servant. I'm the king. It's not the done thing.’”  
  
_

Agravaine grimaced, and took another step forward, spreading his hands. “I fear it’s a little more serious than that.”  
  


“Guinevere has proved herself valuable support and true counselor these past few months. _”_ He pointed out, raising a brow as he took his seat again, swinging a leg up over his other, and propping it on his knee.  
  


Agravaine came closer, looking, of all things, _worried_. Arthur had to push down his anger and amusement as his uncle spoke. “You don't need a woman for support, sire. I- I'm your counsel.”  
  


“I fear you have rather too much stubble to be my wife.”  
  


He could hear Merlin laugh, and then quickly cover it with a cough.  
  


Arthur smiled, shaking his head as he met Agravaine’s eyes again. “Good counsel, solid support, they're exactly what I need. I don't want a queen who spends her days floating around the castle agreeing with my every word. And the people don't want that either. So, I've made up my mind. I want Guinevere to be my queen, and I want you to accept her as such.”  
  


He watched as his uncle reluctantly nodded, and behind him, Merlin smiled.  
  
  
Arthur couldn’t help his own smile as he stood and gestured Agravaine out of the chambers, watching him leave.

* * *

“I thought Merlin was coming along?” Gwaine asked, guiding his horse over to ride next to Arthur’s.  
  


“He is, he’s just doing one last thing, he’ll catch up with us when we make first camp.”  
  


“Are you _honestly-”  
  
_

Arthur laughed, and rose a hand. “I’m completely innocent, here. He’s the one who insisted.”  
  


Gwaine narrowed his eyes, before rolling them and huffing. “Fine, then.”  
  


“Gwaine,” Arthur said, smiling at the knight. “It’s a safety thing, he’s bringing along a certain _someone_ that we don’t want anyone in Camelot seeing, just yet.”  
  


Gwaine’s eyes widened, and a grin split his face. “Ooohh. Alright, then.”  
  


He laughed, and watched as Gwaine sped up a bit to catch up with Percival and Elyan, leaning over and muttering something to them.

* * *

Arthur looked up from his spot as he heard the thudding of hooves on the ground, and smiled when he saw Merlin pull his horse to a stop.  
  


Aithusa poked his head out of one of the saddle bags, snuffling at the air, and Merlin reached down and rubbed his thumb over the dragons head, muttering something in a scratchy, ancient sounding language.  
  


Aithusa practically launched himself out of the bag as soon as Merlin was done speaking, landing on the ground with a soft _thwump_ as he used his wings to land gently, the wind catching them before being pressed out.  
  


“Aithusa!” Gwaine called, and a second later he had an armful of white, Aithusa nuzzling his head under the knight’s chin and making him laugh.  
  


Merlin sighed as he dismounted his horse. “Sometimes I think Aithusa likes you more than me.”  
  


Gwaine grinned, and adjusted his grip on Aithusa. “I think he just likes my beard, It is pretty scratchy.”  
  


Aithusa leaped out of Gwaine’s arms, and launched himself back over to Merlin, wrapping himself around his legs and looking up at him with big eyes.  
  


Merlin laughed and crouched down, scratching under the dragon’s chin for a few moments before he once again darted off, this time towards a patch of sunlight, where he curled up.

* * *

Arthur leaned against a tree as the knights and Merlin set up camp, and Gwen sat on a blanket laid down on the ground next to him.  
  


Percival and Gwaine were currently setting up one of the tents as Elyan unpacked the sleeping rolls from the horses. Leon and Merlin were standing in the stream, sharpened branches in their hands, and spearing fish.  
  


Aithusa was dozing on a boulder in a sunny area, had been chasing it every time the beam shifted as the sun slowly sank, and Arthur couldn’t help the chuckle at the sight of the baby dragon snuffling in his sleep.  
  


Gwen looked up at him, and smiled brightly. “It’s nice that we’re taking this trip in a leisurely fashion. I mean, I know it’s mostly because of wanting Agravaine to think we trust him with the kingdom, but…” She shrugged, looking away. “It’s just...Nice. There’s not really a way to describe it better than that, I suppose.”  
  


Arthur smiled, “Yes, it is nice to get away a bit.”  
  


“It’d be _nicer_ if you came and helped with something so the rest of us could relax, too, you clotpole!” Merlin shouted, waving his still barren spear around.  
  


Arthur rolled his eyes, “And why aren’t you asking Gwen to help, too?”  
  


“Gwen _is_ helping! She’s keeping an eye on Aithusa, of course! You’re the only one doing _nothing_.”  
  


Gwen laughed, though she at least tried to smother it with her hand, and quickly looked away when he tilted his head down towards her. Her eyes were crinkled up, and her face seemed to glow with mirth.  
  


He sighed, and pushed himself away from the tree. “Suppose I’ve got no choice, then. Otherwise Merlin will curse my boots, or something.”  
  


Her shoulders shook, and she doubled over, clamping her other hand over the hand already on her mouth.  
  


Arthur grinned, and let his fingers drag over her shoulder as he went over to help Elyan with the unpacking.


	13. Write it down as it happens (It's history, don't leave it in the dust)

**_Morgana blinked slowly as her father softly sang, holding her tightly in his arms as they swayed on her bed. She didn’t know the meaning behind the words, they were in a language she didn’t know just yet, but his voice was deep and soft, with a rumble that soothed her as she put her ear to his chest.  
  
_ **

**“ _Now, my little Morgana, are you ready for sleep?”  
  
_**

**_She pulled up away, pouting up at him. “Oh, just one more, please?”  
  
_ **

**“ _Morgana.” He chided, gentle as he always was, and tucked a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. “You need to sleep, my dear, it’s a long way to the citadel, don’t you want to be awake for the journey?”  
  
_**

**“ _Yes, father,” She sighed, and cuddled up with him again. “But I don’t want to sleep now, either. You’ll be gone for a long time, and I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”  
  
_**

**“ _Oh, Morgana.” He sighed, and wrapped his arms around her, tighter than before, holding her close. “It may seem like a long time, but I go gladly, to protect this kingdom” He pulled away, again, and ran a finger under her eye, catching her tears. “And I go gladly, to protect you. And I promise, it’ll seem like no time at all has passed when I’m home again.”  
  
_**

**“ _Do you promise, father?”  
  
_**

**“ _Of course, my dear.”_**

* * *

Morgana woke slowly, the sunlight pouring across her face, and she screwed her eyes shut and turned away from it.  
  


“Gwen, pull the curtains, won’t you?” She called, trying to hold onto the dreamy wisps of the soft words in a language she now knew still stuck in her head, her father’s voice softly calling her name.  
  


There was no reply, and she sat up in her bed and opened her eyes to search for her handmaiden. The sunlight was lighting up her small hut and making the dust particles in the air seem to shine as she stared at them. And she, all at once, remembered that there was no Gwen, anymore.  
  


She swallowed, and closed her eyes again as she curled her fingers into her shabby blanket, breathing slowly as she sank in with the morning sounds of the forest. Birds just waking and beginning to sing, squirrels scurrying about along branches and the ground, the wind softly stirring the leaves.  
  


She opened her eyes, again, and swung her legs out of bed. Her heart ached for her old friend, and she felt physical pain from missing her.

* * *

 **“ _Morgana.” Arthur called, poking her in the cheek and forcing her to look up from her book in annoyance._** **  
  
**

**“ _What is it, Arthur?”  
  
_**

**_Arthur, two years younger than her, grinned at her widely, all bright eyed and gap toothed. “Come play with us!”  
  
_ **

**_Morgana sighed, and shut her book. “Why do you want to play with me?” She asked, frowning. She hadn’t spent much time around Arthur since she came to live in the castle three years ago after her father’s death. Normally she kept herself locked up in her room, or, like she was right now, hidden in a corner of the library away from everybody else.  
  
_ **

**_Arthur pouted, blinking his blue eyes up at her. “Because when it’s just Leon, and Guinevere, and me, it’s no fair at all.”  
  
_ **

**_She lifted her brow, confused. She knew Leon, the head knight’s son, but Guinevere wasn’t a name she was familiar with, though it sounded pretty.  
  
_ **

**“ _Oh, fine.” She huffed, and stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of her dress. “But who’s Guinevere?”  
  
_**

**“ _She’s the blacksmiths daughter,” Arthur said, tugging at her arm to pull her from the library faster. “And she’s really good at catching frogs, so she’s always beating Leon and me, so we need another person to make it even.”  
  
_**

**“ _Stop tugging, Arthur!”  
  
_**

**“ _Whatever, Morgana!”  
  
_**

**_Morgana bit her tongue to avoid huffing again, and rolled her eyes, and stopped arguing, letting Arthur drag her down, out of the castle and through the courtyard.  
  
_ **

**_Leon was near the gates to the lower town with an older woman, who held the hand of a pretty girl, who looked maybe a year or two younger than Arthur, with one hand, and in her free arm held a boy who seemed even younger.  
  
_ **

**_The beaming grin the girl, who must have been Guinevere, sent Morgana’s way as she frantically waved gave Morgana a warm, fluttering feeling.  
  
_ **

**_She grinned right back, and when Arthur had finally released her and bounded over to Leon, Morgana tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.  
  
_ **

**“ _Hello, my name is Morgana.”  
  
_**

**“ _Gwen!” The girl piped, nearly going up on her toes. She giggled, and performed a messy curtsy. “It’s short for Guinevere.”  
  
_**

**“ _A pleasure to meet you, Gwen.”_**

* * *

( _S_ _he made her choice when she left_ _your side_ _for Arthur’_ _s_ _._ _)  
  
_

Arthur, her _half-brother_ , who hadn’t even needed the knowledge of shared blood to treat her as a sister, to care for her. He’d been an anchor she hadn’t appreciated when she had lost her father, her _real_ father. Because no matter how well hidden she was, he’d at least try to find her to pull her out of her own thoughts and sadness.  
  


But it was too late for any of that to matter, anymore. It _couldn’t_ matter, because if it did then she’d been _wrong_ , and if she’d been _wrong_ that meant she had betrayed him for nothing.  
  


She couldn’t afford to think about Arthur using magic to cure Uther (How dare he how _dare_ he _how_ _dare he.) (Wouldn’t_ _I_ _have done the same,_ _though?_ _If it was_ _me_ _and Gorlois.) (Gorlois is nothing like Uther.) (But he is a father,_ _I_ _know how_ _I_ _felt about him, and Uther was Arthur’s father.)  
  
_

Morgana had picked up the stone and hurled it at the mirror without even realizing, only the shattering of the glass bringing her back to herself. She heaved, breathing harshly, and lifted her hands, let her eyes melt into gold, and watched as the cracks mended themselves.

* * *

 **“ _Morgana!” Arthur called, peeking around one of the shelves within the library.  
_**

**_She glared at him, slamming her book closed. “Arthur, do you not know the meaning of ‘Leave me be’?”  
  
_ **

**_Arthur looked sheepish, and his crossed his arms and leaned against the bookcase. “I thought that was just for my father.” He sighed, and seemed to abandon the appearance of nonchalance, making his way over to her and sitting in the free chair to her right. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”  
  
_ **

**_Morgana sighed, throwing her head back in frustration. But she bit her lip to stop from saying anything.  
  
_ **

**_She took a deep breath, letting her eyes flutter closed as she did so.  
  
_ **

**“ _I’m fine, Arthur, really. Now leave me be.”  
  
_**

**_There was silence, and Morgana would have assumed Arthur had done as she had asked for once, if not for the fact that there was no tell-tale sounds of him getting up from his chair.  
  
_ **

**“ _Is that really what you want?” He finally asked, and Morgana opened her mouth to reply, only for him to continue before she could. “Or do you want to sneak away and go frog hunting with Leon, Gwen, Elyan, and me?”  
  
_**

**_She couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face as she dropped her head down to meet Arthur’s eyes, a wet laugh breaking out as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.  
  
_ **

**“ _The second option, Please.”  
  
_**

**_Arthur grinned, and stood, holding a hand out for her.  
  
_ **

**_She gladly grabbed it, allowing him to haul her upwards as she left the book in her seat.  
  
_ **

**_They managed to sneak out of the castle, with only a few fingers held up to their mouths when guards spotted them.  
  
_ **

**_The sun was brilliant, and the water was cold, and the mud squelched between her toes, and Morgana couldn’t stop smiling.  
  
_ **

**“ _Thank you, Arthur.” She whispered, sitting on a boulder next to Arthur, who leaned against a tree. The both of them were watching Gwen chase Elyan and Leon around with fistfuls of mud.  
  
_**

**_Arthur knocked his elbow into her shoulder, and grinned down at her. “Of course, ‘Gana.”_ **

* * *

She also couldn’t afford to think on how _Merlin_ had _magic_. Because how _long?_ Did he have magic when she was first discovering hers? Did he _know_ and just let her flounder? ( _He was a servant, I was a noble, if I ever let myself start thinking like Uther, if I turned my back on magic, I’d be believed, and he’d have no defense, any outcries about mine would have been ignored, it’d get him an even **worse** sentence for daring to accuse someone of such high standing with the king.) (You would never have done that, you wouldn’t have.) (Was he supposed to know that? Was he supposed to trust me? Someone he barely knew?)(You trusted **him!** )(I could afford to. And I proved he couldn’t trust me.)(He **poisoned** **you** **!)**_ ( _I turned my back on the kingdom, before that. He was protecting Arthur, as he always has. He drank poison for Arthur once, but he couldn’t this time. I was the one connected to the sleeping spell.)  
  
_

Morgana buried her hands in her hair, and sunk down to her knees. Hot tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was lost, now. She’d thought she had known everything, when Morgause was around, showing her how the world beyond Uther’s reach worked.  
  


She was beginning to feel like she’d just been another tool in Morgause’s plans, sharpened until there was very little of her left, and now she could do nothing else but _hurt_.  
  


And now, she felt as if she was only being used once again. If only be her own inner darkness, this time.  
  


She didn’t know how long she lay there, curled up on the floor of her hut as she sobbed. Dust was sticking to her tear stained face, and it felt disgusting, but she didn’t push herself up from the ground.  
  


She was far too tired to do so.  
  


The door opened, and before Morgana could react, Agravaine was crouched down beside her, his hands cupping her cheeks. “My lady?” He asked.  
  


She turned her head to glare at him, before ripping it out of his hands. “Have you forgotten how to knock, _my lord_?” She sneered, pushing herself to her feet and wiping at her cheeks. Suddenly her desperate want to get away from the man overpowering her tiredness.  
  


“I apologize, my lady, I couldn’t hear anything from outside-”  
  


“You still should have knocked!”  
  


“Of course, my lady.” He bowed, slightly, and she huffed and turned away from him.  
  


“Why have you come here?”  
  


“It’s Arthur. He’s signed a treaty with Caerleon...And he’s planning to attend a feast with them...” Agravaine paused, and she turned back to him and raised her brow.  
  


“And?”  
  


“And...He’s told me he plans to propose to Guinevere, while there.”  
  


Her gut twisted, painfully, and she nearly collapsed.  
  


Guinevere was still such a pretty name. Guinevere Pendragon sounded _right_. And Morgana _hated_ all of this.  
  


It shouldn’t have been Agravaine giving her this news. It should have been Arthur, himself, telling her this. As a brother confiding in an elder sister.  
  


Her vision, of Gwen on the throne of the queen, slammed back into her full force, and she did all she could to fight back the tears. She so _desperately_ wanted to be there, for the both of them. To beg for forgiveness and go _home.  
  
_

 _(_ _H_ _ow could you ever go_ _back_ _, after what you did?_ _It’s not your home, anymore._ _Relax, now. You’re loved, here.)  
  
_

And then, suddenly, her emotions left her. She swallowed, tried to bring them back, but they simply...Weren’t there.  
  


She lifted her head, tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling, and how thoughts, so cruel and cold and dark and not at all her own, though they had been once, filtered in.  
  


And then, the next thing she knew, she was collapsing as her eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

“ _Agravaine, my lord.” The woman stood, highlighted by the sun, in the doorway, and curtsied slightly.  
  
_

“ _Ah, you’re here.” Agravaine hummed, picking up Morgana and laying her in her bed, pulling the covers over her. “She’s…”  
  
_

“ _Becoming difficult?” She asked, stepping into the hut and over to them, running her fingers through Morgana’s hair. “I expected no different. She is strong, after all.”  
  
_

“ _Do you have any plans?”  
  
_

 _She_ _smiled, slow and hollow, and drew her hand away from Morgana. “_ _I am already working on it. Even now she hears my influence.”  
  
_

“ _I see.”  
  
_

“ _You be_ _st_ _get back to Camelot.”  
  
_

“ _Of course,” he bowed to her, before standing straight. “You heard what I said, about the servant girl?”  
  
_

“ _I did...Do_ _not_ _worry, I have a plan for that, as well.”  
  
_

“ _I am not surprised.”_ _He reached out, and brushed a thumb across the scar over her brow._ _“Take care.”_  
  


“ _And you, uncle.”_


	14. History doesn't like being forgotten (so it makes itself known, and rears up to choke you)

Gwaine sighed as he dismounted his horse, locking his fingers together and stretching his arms up over his head. It was their _sixth_ night, and it would be another day and a half until they reached the citadel of Caerleon.  
  


He wasn’t very sure he was ready, if he was perfectly honest with himself, but he didn’t really have a choice in the situation.  
  


He’d see, at the very least, his _mother_ again at this feast. And it had been a _very_ long time since he’d last seen her.  
  


He hadn’t even written to anyone in his family in all the time he’d been away. Would she even want to see him?  
  


“Gwaine?” Percival put his hand on his shoulder, and Gwaine looked up to see the knight with a concerned look on his face. “Are you alright?”  
  


Gwaine plastered a grin on his face. “Yeah, Perc’, I’m fine. You?”  
  


Percival furrowed his brows, and his frown deepened. “Fine. But,” He bit his lip for a moment, before sighing. “I’d like you to know you can tell me, tell us _all,_ the truth about how you feel about all of this.”  
  


Gwaine pressed his lips together, and Percival lifted his eyebrows, making Gwaine sigh and shake his head.  
  


“I’m fine, Percival, honest.”  
  


“Well,” Percival squeezed Gwaine’s shoulder, giving him a small smile. “Alright, then.”  
  


Gwaine smiled, and nodded, and Percival dropped his hand and made his way over to help Merlin set up the fire pit.  
  


He took a deep breath, before joining Leon by the head knight’s horse, and started helping him with unpacking the bed rolls.

* * *

Aithusa was curled up on the outer rim of the fire, the flames licking at his tail and scattering light across his scales, and Gwaine would have reached out to stroke him if not for Merlin’s warning that Dragons heated up _fast,_ and they got _hot_ , and anyone who touched him would probably lose a chunk of their flesh from the burning.  
  


He set his empty stew bowl aside and leaned back, his hair brushing the ground on the other side of the log, and stared up at what parts of the sky he could see through the leaves rustling in the gentle wind above them.  
  


Gwaine _knew_ this sky. It wasn’t like Camelot’s sky, really, there were differences in how the stars were positioned. And yes, he knew Camelot’s sky, too. It was home, had been for a long time, now, but…  
  


But he _knew_ this sky. It hadn’t been something he had had to learn for navigational reasons. He’d grown up looking at this sky, knew where the constellations would be, where the directional stars were, where the brightest stars twinkled.  
  


He knew which ones were new, and which ones were long gone, leaving only empty darkness in their place.  
  


His older sister had never shared his love for the night sky, much preferred the summer sun on her skin as she ran through their orchard. But his mother had been teaching him the night sky since he was a newborn.  
  


So, Gwaine _knew_ this sky, as well as he knew his own heartbeat.  
  


He took a deep breath of the chilly night air, let it coat his lungs, and slowly let his eyes fall shut.  
  


There was rustling, and Gwaine could distantly tell that someone had sat down next to him.  
  


“So,” Merlin sighed, and Gwaine blinked his eyes open to meet Merlin’s, who grinned at him. “How are you?”  
  


Gwaine laughed, and pulled himself into a sitting position, knocking his shoulder against Merlin’s. “I’m _fine_ , Merls.”  
  


“Really?” He asked, smiling softly at Gwaine.  
  


“Yeah, really.” He sighed, and twisted his fingers around some blades of grass, plucking them from the ground. “It’s just...I haven’t seen my mother in a while.”  
  


Merlin’s expression became solemn, and he nodded. “I understand how that feels.”  
  


“Really?” Gwaine asked, tilting his head.  
  


Merlin smiled at him, and nodded. “Nearly six years. I saw her a few times my first year in Camelot, though. And sure, we’ve sent letters and all, but...I’m always so busy in Camelot, so it’s not like I can make the time to visit her, and she can’t really afford to make the trip to Camelot, and, well-” He shrugged “-Even if she could, again, I’m _always_ busy, so…”  
  


Gwaine frowned, and made a mental note to have a _talk_ with Arthur later.  
  


“How about you?” Merlin spoke up again, nudging Gwaine. “When was the last time you saw your mother?”  
  


He sighed, and plucked another handful of grass from the ground, letting it drift away in the wind. “Not since I left home, twelve years ago, now. Haven’t written to her since then, either. Never had the time, or the materials, or...The bravery, I guess.”  
  


“Oh…” Merlin whispered, furrowing his brows. “Why’d you leave?”  
  


Gwaine turned his head to focus on the fire, and the lights dancing across Aithusa’s scales. “My step-father.” He sighed, and hugged his knees up to his chest, letting his chin rest atop them. “He decided he didn’t want anything standing in the way of taking the Orkney lands for himself.”  
  


“But...You told Arthur that because your mother had you, he couldn’t do…” Merlin trailed off, and Gwaine looked over at him again.  
  


His eyes were wide, and his mouth was dropped open. And then, just as fast as the silence had fallen, he shook his head and blinked. “Gwaine, you’re not saying he…”  
  


Gwaine lifted his hand, and felt at the scar right above his hairline. “An ‘ _accident’,_ on the stairs.”  
  


Merlin’s face completely changed, and his eyes melted away into gold as the fire leapt higher, making everyone else jump and turn towards them. He immediately flushed, and drew back, gaining control of the fire before his eyes faded back into blue.  
  


“Sorry, sorry. Don’t worry about it, everything’s fine.” He assured, waving his hands around.  
  


Arthur rose an eyebrow. “Is it?”  
  


Merlin sent a look Gwaine’s way, and Gwaine sighed. “It’s fine, princess. Nothing to get in a twist about.”  
  


Merlin’s shift in his look told him that probably _wasn’t_ what he wanted Gwaine to say. He grimaced in silent apology, and Merlin, thankfully, dropped it.

* * *

“Gwaine.” Merlin whispered, a few moments later, once everyone else had resumed their own conversations and were no longer casting worried glances their way, and dropped his arm around Gwaine’s shoulders.  
  


“Yeah?”  
  


“Thank you for telling me, I know it can’t have been easy.”  
  


Gwaine’s lips twitched, and he leaned into Merlin’s side. “It’s you, Merlin. That made it easier.”  
  


Merlin smiled, and pulled Gwaine into a proper hug, and Gwaine let himself sink into it.  
  


His past was catching up to him, but he had friends who would stand with them, and that?  
  


That made all the difference in the world.


	15. So write it down as it happens (Let the ink stain the page)

Gwen dismounted her horse with ease as the stablehands approached, handing over the reins as some servants gathered her bags off of the steed.  
  


The others were receiving similar treatment, and Gwen caught Merlin’s eyes to share a look of astonishment. Gwen could only remember once where she’d received this treatment, and that was when returning to Camelot after the knights and Merlin won the kingdom back from Morgana and Morgause. And she hadn’t even had any bags to be taken that time.  
  


Merlin, though, was completely flabbergasted, having been cut off from grabbing Arthur’s things by another servant.  
  


“Uh,” He blinked, and the servant smiled at him, her face flushed slightly.  
  


“King Caerleon has insisted that we be the ones responsible for getting the bags to your rooms. Though, you, as King Arthur’s manservant, will of course have full access to the kitchens to either supervise food preparations, or procure breakfast and such for your king and his knights.” She turned towards Arthur, then, and curtsied best she could while holding the bags she was. “Welcome to Caerleon, your majesty.”  
  


“Ah, I see. Well, thank you.” Arthur said, casting a wide eyed look at Merlin, clearly also thrown off by the sudden usurp of his duties, but who nodded in the direction of the Caerleon servant as well.  
  


Gwen laughed as she walked over to them, placing her hands on Merlin’s shoulders. “Well, it looks like you’ll be allowed to relax, for a little.”  
  


“Does he even know _how_ to do that?” Elyan asked, and she turned to see he was leaning on Gwaine, clearly trying to suppress his laughter.  
  


“I don’t think so,” Leon piped up, uncrossing his arms as he joined their circle and reached over to ruffle Merlin’s hair. “But he should _learn.”  
  
_

“Is this even allowed?” Merlin whispered, staring at his hands. “I have _several_ questions right now.”  
  


Gwen laughed, and squeezed his shoulders. And though she opened her mouth to begin to say something, she was cut off by the doors of the castle being pushed open by the guards she could now see were stationed just inside, and king Caerleon and Queen Annis appeared, and began walking down the steps to the courtyard.  
  


Arthur straightened up first, and they all followed suit, Gwen herself quickly smoothing out her dress in case of any wrinkles from the ride, and tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.  
  


“King Arthur, welcome.” Caerleon said, sticking out his arm.  
  


“It’s a pleasure to be here, King Caerleon.” Arthur grasped his arm, his fingers wrapping around the other king’s elbow.  
  


Annis was looking directly at her, clearly appraising her, and Gwen blushed and tried not to fidget under the queen’s eyes.  
  


“Your majesty.” She barely managed to say in a normal voice, curtsying.  
  


Annis smiled, softly, and tilted her head slightly to the side, a twinkle in her eyes.  
  


Gwen fought the urge to take a step to the side and slightly behind Leon. Queen Annis’s attention was, while not exactly _uncomfortable_ , certainly unexpected, and intense.  
  


King Caerleon was just saying something about escorting them up to the castle, when Aithusa poked his head out of Merlin’s over large bag that he’d hooked around his shoulder before the rest of his bags were taken away, and chirped.  
  


Caerleon and Annis both blinked at his appearance, and Merlin reached down and scratched at Aithusa’s head.  
  


“Ah,” Arthur said, smiling as he gestured towards the baby dragon. “This is Aithusa.”  
  


“That-” Caerleon started, looking oddly at Arthur “-Is a dragon.”  
  


Arthur nodded, and he held out his hand, which Aithusa scrambled out of his bag to get on to, the cape Gwen had made him, blue with a silver emblazoned dragon, hanging down and shifting slightly in the light breeze. “Yes, he is. Merlin thought he would be a good symbol for how I hope to legalize magic in the near future,” He chuckled, “And that’s not mentioning how he fits with my kingdom’s crest, and my family name, of course.”  
  


Annis was the first to smile, and she started to lift her hand before she paused, “May I?”  
  


Arthur looked to Merlin with a raised eyebrow, and Merlin nodded.  
  


If Annis was confused by that, she didn’t show it, instead lifting her hand the rest of the way and scratching the top of Aithusa’s head the way Merlin had moments prior.  
  


Aithusa purred, the low rumbling of his chest mixing with the soft coos made in the base of his throat.  
  


“So,” Caerleon said, meeting Arthur’s eyes deliberately, “You plan to legalize magic?”  
  


Arthur nodded.  
  


“Even after what Morgana has done?”  
  


Arthur narrowed his eyes, and the corner of his lips twitched in what Gwen could tell was a mixture of forcefully buried heartbreak, and not a little annoyance.  
  


“Largely _because_ of what Morgana did.” He said, lifting his chin slightly, and Gwen watched as the authority he had pulled around himself on the day of his coronation, so often shoved to the side when he was around them, settled back on his shoulders. “It would never have happened without the fear that my father has sown with his laws against it. It’s as my friend Merlin put it, ‘ _F_ _ear is powerful, and it can rot you from the inside out.’”_ Arthur sighed, and shrugged. “I’m hoping I can bring her home, and help her, if only I can show her there is nothing to fear, anymore.”  
  


Caerleon nodded, and Gwen could swear that there was a sparkle in his eyes, but it could have just as easily been a trick of the light.  
  


But, no, the other king smiled sincerely, and nodded, “Then I suppose we have one more thing to celebrate, during tomorrow’s feast.”  
  


Arthur smiled back, “I’d like that. And if there is any way for Merlin and I to see records of your laws on magic, I would appreciate it.”  
  


Caerleon nodded, again, and let his eyes drift over to Merlin, a curious expression on his face. “Your manservant?”  
  


“Yes,” Arthur smiled, and adjusted his arm so that Aithusa could crawl onto his shoulder before he clapped a hand to Merlin’s shoulder. “Merlin has been a great help during this entire process.”  
  


“Ah,” Caerleon hummed, his smile returning. “I see.”  
  
  
Queen Annis placed a hand on her husbands shoulder, gesturing towards the castle with the other as she spoke. "Why don't we show you all to your rooms?"  
  
  
Arthur nodded. "Yes, that's be wonderful. Thank you."

* * *

Gwen nearly sighed in relief when she was finally shown her chambers, and closed the doors as quickly as she politely could before releasing it.  
  


She turned and pressed her back against the doors before sinking to the floor, taking the time to steady her breathing. It’s not that this all wasn’t _incredible_ , but it _was_ overwhelming.  
  


She placed a hand to her chest, and counted the seconds as she breathed in, then out, and waited for the pounding in her chest to calm.  
  


Once it finally had, she heaved one last, heavy breath, before pushing herself back to her feet and brushing off her dress. She needed to get changed out of the filthy travel clothes she was wearing, and get ready for the welcoming feast that night.  
  


It was still settling in that she was here as a _guest_. And still, so, _so_ strange.  
  


Every time, rare they may have been, that she’d visited a kingdom before this, it had been right next to Morgana’s side as her handmaiden, as it always had been. As Gwen thought it always would be.

She sighed, and quickly blinked away the tears as she dug through one of her bags. A hot, steaming bath was already waiting for her, so she would let it cool down very slightly as she got out her change of clothes.

It’s what she would focus on, and once she was done with that, she would focus on cleaning herself, and after that, she would focus on getting ready.

And, if it wasn’t time for the feast yet, she would track down Arthur, or Merlin, or her brother, or one of the other knights, and she’d keep herself calm and occupied by interacting with them.

“It’s alright, Guinevere, you’ve got this.” She whispered to herself.

She slipped out of her clothes and, rubbing frantically at her arms, darted over to the tub and dropped herself in the hot water.

A huge breath of satisfaction slipped past her lips, and she sunk even deeper, her muscles relaxing and unwinding as she soaked. The number of times she had had a bath this nice she could count on one hand, and her body clearly appreciated such a luxury.

* * *

Gwen sat down next to Arthur, taking in the piles of parchment scattered about the table within his guest chambers, which he and Merlin were both pouring over, Merlin using a spell to copy some of them over to blank pieces of parchment.  
  


“I’m going to guess these are the laws you asked king Caerleon for?” She asked, picking up one of the sheets and bringing it closer to inspect. She could see Arthur nod, distractedly, out of the corner of her eye.  
  


“Yes, they are. They’re all rather extensive, too.” He looked up, and smiled at her, and Gwen felt _warm_ all over, like she was basking in the sun, couldn’t help but smile back as he continued talking, his eyes glittering with determination and passion. “I think we’ll be able to make real progress now that we’ve got these,” He turned his head towards their friend, “Don’t you, Merlin?”  
  


Merlin looked up, and blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Huh?”  
  


“Don’t you think we’re going to be able to make real progress, now that we have these?” Arthur repeated, waving the sheet he had in his hand.  
  


Merlin grinned, and nodded. “Yes, absolutely.” He turned his head to Gwen, and picked up on of the sheets near him and holding it out to her. “This one is only _six years old_ , Gwen! That’s practically _brand new_ in terms of the purge!”  
  


Gwen smiled as she took the sheet. “That’s great, Merlin!”  
  


She was sure if Merlin’s smile got any larger, it would split his mouth in two, and he ducked his head back down, grabbing up more sheets of parchment, his eyes flying across them at an astonishing speed.  
  


It surprised Gwen, as it did the rest of them, to learn just what, exactly, Merlin could do when he wasn’t keeping his magic so locked up.  
  


She smiled, and looked down to read the sheet he had handed her, apparently regarding the legality of healing spells that would counteract darker spells.  
  


Arthur’s fingers brushed across her temple, and he tucked a loose section of her hair behind her cheek, making her look out of the corner of her eye at him.  
  


He was already back to his own research, but his hand had dropped down to her own, and his fingers were curling into her palm. She smiled, and as she looked back at her sheet, curled her own fingers over his.


	16. And see to it you never forget (Black as pitch across the parchment)

“She’s not well. She’s pushing herself, _forcing_ herself, too far.” Elaine said, sighing as she brushed messy locks of hair off of Morgana’s forehead.  
  


“She’s pining for something that she cannot have. We’ve done _too much_ for her to become a coward and back out, now!”  
  


Sharp, blue eyes bored into her, and she nearly, very nearly, shrank back under the hard, disapproving glare.  
  


“You’re manipulating her mind! How can you say you care for her, but then not even allow her to be herself? Is this not exactly what Uther does?”  
  


“It is not!”  
  


“Yes, it is.” Elaine hissed, getting up from the bed and striding across the room, placing her finger against her chest. “Yes, it _is_. You’ve turned to _controlling_ her, just so you won’t lose her.”  
  


Elaine dropped her hand, and her face twisted into a horrified look.  
  


“You’re being _worse_ ,” she whispered, the sudden realization heavy in her voice. “Because at least under Uther she had her own _mind._ ”  
  


“Elaine-” She tried, taking a step forward. She had to make Elaine _see_ , she had to make her _know_.  
  


She _had_ to.  
  


“No,” Elaine cut her hand through the air, turning away from her. “I want you to leave.”  
  


“ _Elai-”  
  
_

“ _Leave.”_ Elaine snarled, whipping her head back around, her eyes narrowed and brows furrowed in pure _fury_. “ **Now.** Morgause.”  
  


The anger deep inside of her bubbled, but she closed her eyes and calmed herself, before beginning to stride towards Morgana’s prone body.  
  


Elaine’s hand grabbed her shoulder, her fingers digging in just above her collarbone, and yanked her back a couple of steps, putting her body between Morgause and Morgana.  
  


“Morgana _**stays**_ right _here_.”  
  


She turned to look at Elaine, then grabbed her wrist, fingers digging into Elaine’s skin _hard_ , and threw it to the side and off of her shoulder.  
  


And she left, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Morgause slowly waded into the lake, letting her fingers drag across the waters surface, the pitch black of it rippling over the tops of them as her dress began to billow around her.  
  


For as far out as she could see, the water was as still as a moment before disaster. She refused to think of it as still as _death._ Because even in death things moved, decaying and sinking back into the earth, forever an important part to the never ending circle that was existence itself.  
  


A moment before disaster, though, was _perfect_ stillness, a time settled between disturbances, the last breath before it all went mad.  
  


She could feel it, prickling at her skin, and she closed her eyes to it, let it sink in deep and tease at her magic.  
  


Morgause stops, and opens her eyes, once she feels the water just below her waist, and she pulls a coin from a small bag tied tight around her wrist. She brings it to her lips, pressing the cool metal there and closing her eyes, letting her magic flow into it.  
  


And then, positioning it between her thumb and finger, she flings it into the depths of the pool, watching the water ripple outwards as the coin sunk.  
  


For several minutes, she watched as the water steadily grew still again, before a surge of water was disturbed.  
  


Slowly, ever so slowly, a dark head of hair, followed by a pair of muscular shoulders, rose out of the waters, and a smile slid onto her face.  
  


The man blinked at her, before speaking.  
  


“My name is Lancelot, my lady.” He said, bowing to her. “I am yours to command.”  
  


Morgause reached out and grabbed Lancelot’s elbow, tugging him towards her. “Come, Lancelot. There is much to be done before you are ready.”  
  


“Of course, my lady.” He said, and she led him to shore.

* * *

Morgause adjusted the collar of the tunic she’d gotten for Lancelot, smoothing out the wrinkles in the gentle blue fabric. She’d had Agravaine dig through a storage area of the castle and procure several of the knight’s old garments, so that it would be consistent with his style.  
  


“You have been on a journey few have ever dreamed of, tell me, what was it like, the moment you walked in to the veil?”  
  


“I know not where I have been, nor how to describe what you speak of, my lady, only that I am yours.”  
  


Morgause scoffed, and rolled her eyes as she dropped her hands to his shoulders, gripping at the fabric there and tugging at it, straightening it out.  
  


As soon as she was finally satisfied, she leaned back to inspect it, before patting his chest.  
  


“There, now, that’s much better.”  
  


“Thank you, my lady.” He said, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss into it, making her roll her eyes again as she ripped it away from him.  
  


“Now, now. None of that.” She sighed, and placed her fingers at his temples. “Relax, now. Close your eyes.”  
  


Lancelot’s eyes slid closed at her command, and Morgause took a deep breath, steadying herself, before letting her eyes bleed gold, lips moving silently as she urged the spell into being.  
  


A bright light lit where her fingers were pressed into his skin, and inky black spilled out from under his eyelids, rolling down his cheeks like tears and dripping to the floor from his chin.  
  


She smiled, once the light had faded, and pulled her hands down, using them to wipe the dark liquid from under his eyes before cleaning them off on one of the tunics she had decided against.  
  


“Now, open your eyes.” She commanded.  
  


Lancelot blinked, opening his eyes slowly, and there, deep within them, was a spark. Not enough for him to rebel against her control completely, but enough to give him the sense of _life_ that shades so lacked. Enough for him to be as close to the Lancelot that Arthur and the rest knew so well.  
  


Hopefully, Morgana knew enough about him for the single spark to be enough.  
  


He wouldn’t act beyond what he was told about himself, and Morgause wished for a moment that she could have given him some more. But he was strong.  
  


“Now, who are you?”  
  


The spark _flared_ , and she grinned, wide, as he spoke.  
  


“I am sir Lancelot, knight of Camelot.”  
  


“And,” She said, placing her hands on either side of his face, “Who do you serve?”  
  


“Arth-” Lancelot choked, the spark flickering, flaring and dimming like the beat of a heart. He brought his hand up to his throat, still gasping as he struggled to push the word, the _name_ , out.  
  


_Fear_ flickered alongside the spark, and she could feel his resistance, already, with so little of his true self.  
  


So, she set the black-stained tunic down, and she dug her fingers into the flesh of his cheeks, and forced his attention back to her, as she weaved another spell around his soul.  
  


“Who,” She repeated, tilting her head, eyes melting away to gold once more, “ _Do you serve?”  
  
_

He somehow managed to resist, even while she was actively enchanting him, but, eventually...  
  


“You,” Lancelot whispered, closing his eyes, grief etching it’s way onto his features. “I serve you, my lady.”  
  


Morgause smiled, “ _Precisely_. And now,” She pulled her hands away, letting her fingers drag across his skin. “Listen closely, _Sir Lancelot_ , you have much work to do.”  
  


“Yes, my lady.”


	17. For wouldn't that be such a shame (To lose hold of what had been)

“-And of course we have to make sure we’re looking at it as closely as we can. We _have to_ consider the ramifications of allowing, and _disallowing_ , certain spells.” Arthur sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he walked down the long hallway.  
  


There had been so much talk during the welcoming feast the night before, and while the laws he had been pouring over with Merlin, and later Gwen, made near-perfect sense to him, there were still so many questions that needed to be asked.  
  


“Like what, sire?” Leon asked, tilting his head.  
  


“Well, take locking and unlocking spells. They work like keys, correct, Merlin?”  
  


Merlin nodded absentmindedly, humming in confirmation, though his head was still dipped down, buried in a book written by the Caerleon dragon lord years before the purge-Arthur had no idea how Merlin hadn’t tripped over his own two feet yet, but he suspected magic-, That had been meant for a son that he had had no way of knowing would never be.  
  


Arthur sighed, but left him to it and turned back to Leon. “But from what Merlin tells me, it’s easy to use, and the locking spell doesn’t _stop it_ from being unlocked, so how do we charge someone who uses an unlocking spell to get someplace they shouldn’t?”  
  


Leon pressed his lips in a firm line, and furrowed his brows. “We’d have to rewrite the law concerning breaking an entering.”  
  


“Right,” Arthur nodded. “As much as I wish it _was_ , it’s not going to be as simple as just lifting the ban on magic and making new laws concerning the darker stuff, we have to take a careful look at every other law and see it how affects them, if there are any loopholes that it creates, and fix those before we even start on the actual lifting of the ban.”  
  


Leon nodded, “We want to avoid any chaos that may follow, after twenty-five years of oppression, there are bound to be people who act out. We already have that, right now, so how would it increase if people didn’t have to worry about death?”  
  


The snap of a book closing drew both their eyes over to Merlin, who had a slightly unnerving smile on his face. “You’re right that we need to close any loopholes in any other laws, but that shouldn’t be a reason to delay. Just tell the people that though the _letter_ of the law hasn’t been updated to reflect the new times, that doesn’t mean the _spirit_ won’t be followed for a court case,” He shrugged.

“Just because the law doesn’t specify that murdering someone with magic is illegal when you take away the law against magic as a whole, we all know that that doesn’t mean it makes it _okay_ to murder someone. So cases will have to be taken one by one and carefully examined, just as they would be after the laws are fully updated. Just as they already are for crimes not concerning magic.”  
  


Arthur blinked, before nodding. Not just because that smile, and Merlin’s cold eyes, were a little unnerving, but also because he was _right._ “That’s a much better idea, Merlin.”  
  


“I know it is, Arthur.” Merlin said, rolling his eyes, though his unnerving smile shifted into one of his much more natural smiles.  
  


Arthur snorted, and slung an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, Aithusa jumping down and hitting the floor with a _thwump_ and darting over to clamber up on to Leon’s Shoulder, curling his tail around the knights chest and tucking his head just under Leon’s chin.  
  


It almost felt like the hatchling was glaring at him, but Arthur grinned at him anyways, before turning back to Merlin and tugging him close, ruffling his hair to the sound of Leon laughing in the background.

* * *

Arthur watched the scene unfolding before him carefully, a soft smile on his face.  
  


Gwaine was hugging a woman who seemed to be only a few years older than him, and she had him held tightly in her arms, a large smile on her face, the corners of her eyes crinkling with how tightly they were shut.  
  


And while Arthur couldn’t see _Gwaine’s_ face, he was sure the knight was equally happy, if the laughter pouring out of him was anything to go by.  
  


Merlin was swaying on his feet, a little, a toothy grin on his face, and smaller, slightly more constrained-Though no less bursting at the seams-Smiles were on Gwen’s and the rest of the knights’ faces.  
  


The happiness in front of them was infectious, like that.  
  


Gwaine pulled away from the woman, and turned back to them, and sure enough, his smile was nearly splitting his face.  
  


“Everyone, this is Clarrisant, my older sister.”  
  


Elyan bit his lip, an amused expression on his face that had Arthur raising an eyebrow.  
  


Clarrisant gave Gwaine her own look of confusion at the knight’s behavior, and Gwaine’s grin, though Arthur didn’t think it was possible, grew.  
  


“Yes, Elyan, the evil old toad I’ve told you about.”  
  


That earned him a gentle smack to the back of his head, which only made Gwaine laugh, loud and unapologetic. Arthur didn’t think he’d _ever_ seen Gwaine quite _this_ happy, before.  
  


“Oi, you bratty little rodent, where do you get off calling me an evil old toad?”  
  


Gwaine turned back to his sister, still laughing, “The same place you get off calling me a bratty little rodent, Clarri.”  
  


Clarrisant rolled her eyes and shook her head, though just the same as Gwaine, her smile never left her face.  
  


Gwen was the first to approach, curtsying slightly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Clarrisant, I’m Guinevere, but you can call me Gwen.”  
  


“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Gwen.”  
  


Arthur stepped forward, next, and brought his hand to rest on Gwen’s shoulder as he tilted his head towards Clarrisant.  
  


“Arthur. Good to meet you.”  
  


“And you, your majesty. You’ve been treating my brother well, yes?” She asked, crossing her arms, and though it had seemed like her voice still had a joking overtone to it, the undertone was as hard and serious as a rock.  
  


Arthur nodded. “Of course, Gwaine’s a very good friend of mine, as well as one of my best knights.”  
  


Her smile softened, and she turned her head to look down at Gwaine, her lips moving in a way Arthur couldn’t catch.  
  


Gwaine nodded, and Clarrisant seemed even more satisfied.  
  


Arthur wondered, momentarily, if he and Morgana had ever looked like that.

* * *

“So, why are you here?” Gwaine asked, setting his goblet down on the table within his guest chambers.  
  


Clarrisant frowned, and swept the loose bits of her hairstyle back, tucking them behind her ears. “You’ve not heard?”  
  


Arthur blinked, looking between the two, and watched as Gwaine shrugged, the knight looking as confused as he felt.  
  


“The year long succession crisis in Essetir was resolved a few weeks ago,” She sighed, picking up her goblet. “Can you guess who ended up with the crown?”  
  


Arthur watched as Gwaine’s entire face morphed into some mixture of shock and disgust.  
  


“Don’t tell me…” He moaned, dropping his head in his hands. Clarrisant grimaced, and took a long drink of her wine before setting the goblet back down again.  
  


“Sorry, Gwaine, but…” She sighed, patting him on the shoulder. “Yes, our _dear_ step-father. It almost went to Cenred’s nephew, but he was deemed too ill to be reliable, even with a regent in place until he was of age.”  
  


“Lot hasn’t even lived in Essetir in over two decades, not to mention the issue of his mother and father..."  
  


“I know.”  
  


Arthur blinked, and he opened his mouth to ask something, barely able to think over the sound of Elyan choking on his wine, when Leon spoke up.  
  


“Wait, Gwaine…?”  
  


Gwaine lifted his head out of his hands to look at Leon, lifting a brow in question.  
  


“Your step-father...Was in line for the throne of Essetir?”  
  


He sighed, and slumped back in his chair while Clarrisant rolled her eyes and answered.  
  


“Yes, it’s a complicated line, though. He shouldn’t have even been considered, apparently something changed the circumstances, though I’ve not been informed of what, yet.”  
  


“Does that make you a prince of another kingdom, Gwaine?” Percival asked, leaning over the table to see Gwaine.  
  


Gwaine grimaced, and said “That depends.” While wagging his hand from side to side, at the same time as Arthur said “No.”  
  


Arthur’s eyebrows raised as he looked at Gwaine, and he blinked rapidly in his confusion, before waving for the knight to go ahead and _explain_. Because as far as he knew, there was no way for step-children to end up in the line of succession.  
  


Gwaine heaved a sigh, and looked to Clarrisant, his face a perfect picture of ‘ _Help, please.’  
  
_

Clarrisant snorted, “You’re on your own for this, I’d rather avoid the headache inducing politics of Essetir and it’s succession line.” she said, before taking another long sip of her wine, looking grimly amused at the whole thing.  
  


The knight scowled, and grabbed his own goblet of wine, taking a very long drink from it, before slamming it, now empty, back down on the table.  
  


“Okay,” He put his elbow up on the table and rested his forehead against his hand, his fingers tangling into his hair. “So, I do have two younger brothers, who are the sons of my step-father, though even without them, I’m nowhere near the top of the line of succession. But, I digress, there’s a complicated history of ‘ _Royal Succession.’_ in Essetir, so, _technically,_ I am _somewhere_ in there. And my mother marrying Lot, and Lot becoming king, brings me slightly higher up the list.”  
  


Arthur desperately wanted to bury his head in his hands, and maybe tear all his hair out.  
  


“Lets-” He cut himself off, and sighed, running a hand down his face before turning to Clarrisant “-Get back to that later, and go back to Gwaine’s original question. You’re here because your step-father, Lot, is king of Essetir…And?” He trailed off, and gestured towards Clarrisant.  
  


“Ah, yes,” Clarrisant nodded. “Since my mother is now queen consort of Essetir, she had to relinquish her dower of the lands of Orkney, it being in another kingdom and all. And since we haven’t been in contact with Gwaine in over a decade, and our two younger brothers aren’t the sons of _our_ father, it went to me,” Her lips quirked upwards, a little. “And my husband.” She added.  
  


“So, you’re here because you’re now the lady of Orkney.” Arthur asked, trying to clarify everything. His head was aching slightly from it all. Though he supposed this was what every king dealt with, at least once in their lives.  
  


Clarrisant nodded. “I am, yes. My husband, daughter, and son are here as well.”  
  


“Alright, then.” Arthur coughed, feeling a little awkward now. “Gwaine assured me your mother would be agreeable to the transfer of the land of Orkney to Camelot. Are you, as well?”  
  


“King Caerleon tells me you’re working on lifting the ban on magic. Is that true?”  
  


Arthur blinked, confused at the non-answer, but nodded. “Yes, we are.”  
  


Clarrisant smiled, and dipped her head. “Then I am agreeable.”  
  


Arthur nodded, and stood. “I’m glad to hear it, lady Clarrisant. I suppose we’ll leave you and Gwaine to get caught up, then?”  
  


Clarrisant stood, as well, her smile brightening a bit as her eyes crinkled. “Thank you. It was good talking with you, your majesty.”  
  


Arthur smiled, “And you.” He said, hooking his hand under Merlin’s arm, and tugging him up from the table. The other knights were already standing themselves, but Merlin’s head was still buried in the dragon lord book that he hadn’t put down since Annis had given it to him.  
  


“Merlin, come on.”  
  


“Hmm? Yeah, alright.” Merlin hummed, not looking up from the book, but letting himself be tugged until they reached the door, when he finally snapped his head up. “Oh! See you later, Gwaine!”  
  


Gwaine laughed, lifting his goblet in their direction. “See you later, Merls.”  
  


Arthur rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight the smile on his face as he finally pulled Merlin from the room.  
  


“Come on, then, we’ve got a feast for you to prepare me for.” He said, ruffling his hair.  
  


“More than just a feast, Arthur.” Merlin grinned, jabbing his elbow into Arthur’s ribs. “And I’ve got to prepare too, you know.”  
  


Arthur’s smile grew, and he threw his head back, laughing.  
  


“Yes, I know, Merlin.” He threw his arm over Merlin’s shoulders. “So we better get going, and you better keep your head out of that journal. You’ll have plenty of time to read it _later.”_  
  


Merlin scrunched his nose in displeasure, but sighed and shoved the book in his leather satchel, and they continued the rest of the way to Arthur’s guest chambers talking about all that needed to be done before the feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom (from what I've seen): Gwaine called his sister an evil old toad (in the ONE mention we get of her), so we can assume they don't get along/hate each other!
> 
> Me, a younger sibling: Sure, Jan...


	18. For who are we without it (The beat of your heart isn't quite enough)

“ _ **I will give you one more chance to pledge your allegiance to me.” Morgana said, staring down at Leon and the other knights from the balcony.  
  
**_

_**Even from up here she could see as Leon took a moment, before that thrice damned determined smirk of his slid onto his lips. A smirk she had used to love to see, because it wasn’t against her, only shared, like a secret.  
  
** _

_**But now-  
  
** _

“ _ **Long live the king!” He shouted, and anger bubbled in her veins, hotter on the side that Morgause stood.  
  
**_

_**The other knights followed his lead, and she took a deep breath as a thought slowly wriggled it’s way from the depths of her mind.  
  
** _

“ _ **Perhaps this will change your mind.” She said, lifting her hand before cutting it through the air.  
  
**_

_**The archers turned their crossbows into the crowd, and fired.** _

* * *

Morgana’s eyes flew open, and her gasp of air caught in her throat as she jerked upwards. Tears were streaking down her cheeks, and her heart was thundering in her chest.  
  


She swallowed several times before she was able to take a full breath, her lower lip trembling as she clutched her fingers.  
  


It took a few moments for her to calm down enough to realize she wasn’t anywhere she recognized. A clean, sunlit room, in a soft bed.  
  


She glanced about, before her eyes landed on a large mirror to the side of the room, right next to a large window that overlooked a forest.  
  


Her face was clean, and her hair… She reached up and grabbed at it, letting her fingers sink in between the silky locks, the knots and tangles that had accumulated after her ousting from Camelot were no longer there, and her hair hung as smoothly as it had for most of her life, though it stopped at just below her shoulders.  
  


The door clicked open behind her, and Morgana could see a woman, with long blonde hair and soft blue eyes, enter.  
  


They met eyes in the reflection, and the woman smiled softly, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.  
  


“Ah, Morgana, you’re awake.”  
  


Morgana turned around, swallowing slightly as she wet her lips.  
  


“Who are you? And...Where am I?”  
  


The woman’s smile softened, and she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “My name is Elaine, and you are in my home.”  
  


She came closer, and sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Morgana’s. “I’m sorry about your hair… It was just such a tangled mess when you were brought to me...” She sighed, looking genuinely apologetic, and _oh,_ after so long with Morgause, and then alone or with Agravaine, she had forgotten what that looked like. “I did do my best.”  
  


Morgana brought her hand back up to her hair, tangling her fingers into the ends of it as she looked away, focusing her eyes on a portion of the floor. “It’s… it’s alright.” She whispered.  
  


She looked back up, furrowing her brows. “You said this was your home... _Why_ am I here?”  
  


Elaine laughed, a pleasant, warming laugh, and reached over to place her hand on Morgana’s. “Because Morgause was worried about you, dear. She brought you here, to me, so you could recover.”  
  


Morgana tensed, and ripped her hand away from Elaine’s, anger bubbling up from some dark place underneath her ribs and spilling out into her veins.  
  


“How could you say such a cruel lie? My sister is dead!”  
  


It was Elaine’s turn to furrow her brows, before a deep sadness filled her eyes. “Oh, I hadn’t known she hadn’t told you, yet…”  
  


“What are you talking about?”  
  


“Morgana, dear,” She reached out, and caressed Morgana’s cheek in her hand, brushing a thumb underneath her eye, catching a traitorous tear that had slipped from it. “Morgause isn’t dead.”  
  


The anger turned to heartbreak and disbelief in a near instant. She didn’t want to believe that, but she could hear no lie in the other woman’s voice.  
  


“But-” Morgana choked, nearly sobbing. “But I killed her myself… To open a veil between this world and the spirit world.”  
  


Elaine grimaced at the mention of the veil, but she seemed to shake her head to clear it, then began speaking, “No,” Elaine said, her features gentle as she smiled. “You killed someone wearing a blood crystal, that Morgause was controlling. She wanted Camelot to _think_ she was dead, and she wanted it to be convincing. So you had to grieve. But,” She sighed, and looked down, letting her hand drop back down to Morgana’s. “I was not aware she had let you grieve for _so long_.”  
  


Morgana knocked Elaine’s hand away, and brought her own up to clutch at the white night gown she had been changed in to, directly over where her heart was thudding and clenching painfully.  
  


Morgause was _alive_. She was _alive_ and she _hadn’t told her.  
  
_

Morgana was having to learn that the woman who she thought of as a sister, even after learning that she herself was Uther’s daughter, and that they did not really share any blood, was _still alive_.  
  


From a _stranger.  
  
_

“Are you alright?”  
  


“I think…” She gasped, trying to find her voice through the thickness in her throat, the sobs welling in the base of it. “No…” She sobbed, looking back up to meet Elaine’s eyes. “No, I’m not. How could she do this to me!? I...I gave up _everything_ for her, I turned my back on my friends because she told me that being by her side was the only way to bring magic back! To feel _safe,_ at last! And...”  
  


It was getting harder to breathe, and tears were streaming down her face. “And Arthur, he used magic to heal Uther. He had Merlin _use magic_ , and hasn’t killed him for it, and...And I...I don’t know _anything_ anymore!”  
  


She ducked her head down and buried it in her hands, could feel her shoulders shake, even as she was enveloped in a hug by Elaine, with her sobs.  
  


Morgana wondered, her heart twisting painfully, if any of Morgause’s supposed love had been real, or if it had all been to turn Morgana into a weapon within Camelot.  
  


She gasped for breath, tearing her hands from her face, and slinging them around Elaine to grab at her back. Her fingers digging in as she buried her head in the crook of Elaine’s neck.

* * *

Morgana didn’t know how long they sat there, with Elaine rubbing at her back and humming soothing sounds as she cried, but eventually she pulled away, and patted Morgana’s knee.  
  


“Now that you’re awake, you can leave anytime. But do know that you’re also welcome to stay here as long as you need to.” Elaine stood up, brushing the wrinkles from her dress. “My home is warded against Morgause’s magic.”  
  


Morgana frowned, her mouth opening a fraction before she closed it again, and looked away.  
  


Elaine, however, continued speaking.  
  


“I happen to disagree with her molding your mind, the way she was.”  
  


She jerked her head up to look at Elaine, her eyes wide.  
  


“Molding…” Morgana started, before shutting her mouth, and swallowing thickly. Could it really be? Had Morgause been…?  
  


“Your mind, yes.” Elaine held out a hand, and as soon as Morgana took it, helped her out of bed. “She’s been lonely so much of her life, I can only assume she didn’t want to lose you.”  
  


Morgana frowned. “She had no right…”  
  


“No, she did not.” She tilted her head, and seemed to think. “I suppose I can understand it on _some_ level, loneliness is a thing that can darken a person’s heart, but I could never bring myself to condone it.”  
  


Morgana nodded, and looked down, trying to take in the golden details of her night gown. It reminded her of the nightgown she had worn when she had begged Merlin for answers so long ago, though there were noticeable differences.  
  


“There are plenty of dresses hung up in the armoire, I’ll leave you to change, then you can come down and have something to eat.”  
  


Morgana looked up, and took in Elaine’s smile and soft eyes, and smiled as she nodded.  
  


As soon as the door clicked behind Elaine, Leon’s shout, of despair and horror at the deaths _he had caused_ , played in her mind, and she frantically shook her head to clear it.  
  


Perhaps, just perhaps, she could stay here, and take some time to rid her soul of all the rotten little things dwelling inside of it.  
  


And maybe, one day, she _could_ go home. At the very least to apologize to the ones she cared so much about, and hurt so badly, even if she wasn’t allowed to stay.


	19. (Tell the stories of those who can't tell their own)

There was a mouse hiding in the corner, behind the great big food holders. It was chewing into the wood to try and get at the grains within them, it’s little claws scratch-scratch- _scratching_.  
  


Aithusa lowered his body, pressing his chest against the rim of the food holder he sat on, and watched the little creature, his tails swishing low over the over side, as he waited for the right moment.  
  


_There_ , the creature had finally dropped it’s eyes back down to it’s task, no longer keeping a watch on Aithusa, and the he _lunged_ down into the small space, mouth open.  
  


His face was the first part of his body to hit the floor, the mouse squeaking and taking _off_. The rest of Aithusa’s body over-balanced, and his back crashed against the wall, his head sliding into a space between two of the food holders as his tail came down with a _thump_ on to his face, the tip of it lashing across his face.  
  


Aithusa struggled, trying to flip his body over and get back on his feet, but was getting no where with it. He whined, wished he could put the feelings into the words that Kilgharrah would speak in the language of their souls, or the language that papa Merlin and the other kind-ones spoke to each other.  
  


A head poked over the food holders, and soft, dark eyes blinked down at him.  
  


“Oh, poor thing!” The kind-one cooed, clambering atop the food holders and leaning down, grabbing him and hauling him up.  
  


He chirped, and nuzzled his head into her, as she began petting him.  
  


“Now, just how did you get down there?” She asked, adjusting him slightly and holding him with one arm while she got off of the food holders.  
  


Aithusa chirped again, and pulled his head away to sniff at the air. He wanted to find the mouse, to show the Kind-one what he’d been _hunting_.  
  


“Something smell good?” She asked, looking around. “I heard some squeaking last time I was in here, were you trying to get a mouse? Do dragons eat mice?”  
  


Aithusa looked at the Kind-one, and tilted his head. She was _good_ at figuring out what he was saying without using the language the Kind-ones used. Only papa Merlin was _that_ good at it.  
  


“Oh! I’m Sybil, by the way! And you’re Aithusa, right? At least, that’s what the king said when he told Mother and Father, and Erec and me, about you.”  
  


He bobbed his head, like he’d seen the Kind-ones do, and watched as she stretched her mouth wide open, just like the others did when he did something that got them to use their short little claws on him and make him feel good.  
  


“It’s a pretty name! Hey, I can’t help you catch a mouse or anything, but how about I share the apples I got?  
  


Aithusa bobbed his head again, a stirring feeling like how he felt when flying building in his gut, _‘Apple_.’ was what Kind-One Gwaine called the yummy round things, that crunched as he ate them.  
  


Aithusa _liked_ those.  
  


Kind-One Sybil did that thing with her mouth again, and Aithusa crawled up on her shoulder, looping around her neck, and she grabbed the small, scratchy bag filled with the apples, hauling it up.  
  


Aithusa dipped his head down and bit into one of the apples, tossing it into the air and catching it whole before crunching down on it.  
  


Kind-one Sybil shrieked with the loud, good noise, the one that the Kind-ones made when they visited him in the clearing, as the sharp-sweet liquid sprayed onto her face. “Aithusa!”  
  


Aithusa tilted his head, looking into her eyes, before nudging his head into her cheek.  
  


She made the noise again, and Aithusa pulled back as she bent down to set the bag on the floor. She reached for an apple, and Aithusa felt a _stir_ again, the one that called for him to take flight.  
  


He _leaped_ as she tossed the apple into the hallway, and caught it in his mouth before tucking, and rolling across the floor. It broke apart in his mouth, the sharp-sweet liquid spilling out, and swallowed the pieces down.  
  


“Oh, excellent!” Kind-one Sybil called.  
  


Aithusa twisted, and ran back to her, butting his head up against her leg. She crouched down and scratched her short claws over his head.  
  


“Aithusa!”  
  


He whipped his head up to look down the hall, and chirped, because coming towards them was papa Merlin.  
  


He ran towards him, his claws clacking against the smooth-hard ground beneath him, and then flapped his wings, launching himself into papa Merlin’s arms.  
  


Papa Merlin laughed, and wrapped them around Aithusa, holding him tight against his warm body. Aithusa burrowed his head under papa Merlin’s chin, and rumbled out his happiness.  
  


“And who might you be?” Papa Merlin asked, looking down at Kind-one Sybil.  
  


Kind-one Sybil did the good mouth thing again, and stood up, brushing at her dress. “My name is Sybil, but my mother says I should say ‘ _Lady Sybil of Orkney.’_ , but that’s _way_ too long, don’t you think?”  
  


“Hmm,” Papa Merlin looked away, biting down on his lip, though not hard enough to draw the red that meant _hurt_ , or cause the white that meant _pressure_ , before looking back down at Kind-one Sybil. “Between me and you? I do, but you should listen to your mother.”  
  


Kind-one Sybil tilted her head to the side, before making the loud, good noise again, and bobbing her head. “You’re likely right, my mother is usually right. Or, that’s what grandmother says, and grandmother is _always_ right.”  
  


“An always right grandmother, and a usually right mother? Seems you’ve gotten quite lucky, lady Sybil.”  
  


Kind-one Sybil made the noise again, though this one was gentler, and bobbed her head again.  
  


“What’s your name?”  
  


“I’m Merlin,” Papa Merlin scratched under Aithusa’s chin, and he chittered. “And you’ve already met Aithusa, apparently.”  
  


“Oh!” Kind-one Sybil blinked, going up on her toes. “Are they yours, then?”  
  


“Well,” Papa Merlin said, his face scrunching up before smoothing out. “In a way, I suppose he is. Not like property, though.”  
  


She blinked, her mouth twisting oddly, before her eyes brightened. “So… Aithusa is yours, like I’m my mother’s?”  
  


Papa Merlin made the good, rumbly sound, his head falling back and his shoulders shaking with it. “Yes, that’s a very good way to put it, lady Sybil.”  
  


Aithusa chirped, and butted his head against papa Merlin’s, before leaping back down and trotting over to Kind-one Sybil and nudging against her leg.  
  


She blinked at him, before her mouth did the good thing, and she crouched down, grabbing another apple, and holding it out to him.  
  


He snatched it in his mouth, and sat back on his hind-legs to chew at it happily.  
  


Kind-one Sybil _grinned with_ _happiness_ , and Aithusa knew the words now because he’d been thinking ‘ _The g_ _ood mouth thing_ _is nice on Kind-one Sybil._ _’_ and papa Merlin’s voice sounded in his head ‘ _She is grinning because she is happy.’  
  
_

Aithusa, biting down on another apple in Kind-one Sybil’s hand, turned to look at papa Merlin.  
  


He was also _grinning with happiness_.  
  


And Aithusa tried to imitate it, sharp-sweet liquid spilling out of his mouth, and drew out the good, loud sounds.  
  


‘ _Laughter,_ _Aithusa._ _T_ _he sound is laughter_ _.’_ Papa Merlin said in his head.  
  


Laughter, Aithusa thought, was the _perfect_ word for the sound.


	20. For what would we be (If we forgot all this in the years to come)

Arthur tapped his foot as Merlin brushed at his regalia, smoothing out any wrinkles and picking out the tiny, shedded scales from when Aithusa had burrowed into his bag during their conversation with Clarrisant and Gwaine earlier that day, before taking off and exploring.  
  


The dragon was now dozing on the bed, snuffling softly in his sleep, snout still sticky from the apples he had eaten.  
  


“Ar _thur_ , stand _still_ , would you?” Merlin huffed, leaning in close to pluck yet another wisp of the stuff from the fur of his cape.  
  


“I _am,_ _Mer_ lin.”  
  


“You,” Merlin grumbled, using his foot to press Arthur’s down and stop it’s tapping, “Are most certainly _not_ , you clotpole.”  
  


“Still not a word.”  
  


“No,” Merlin snorted, looking up and meeting Arthur’s eyes with his own laughter-bright ones, one of his goofy grins stretched across his face, “Not yet. But think about it, even what we’re saying right now didn’t use to be words, until one day, someone thought them up and started using them.”  
  


Arthur blinked, furrowing his brows even as he smiled, a little flabbergasted, and huffed out a laugh. “I swear, Merlin, you’ve got to start warning us when you’re about to be more wise than usual.”  
  


Merlin ducked his head down, returning to his task as he laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”  
  


“Well,” Arthur shrugged, looking to the side, his smile growing. “I suppose you’ve got something of a point, there.”  
  


“’ _Something’_ of a point?”  
  


Arthur rolled his eyes, “Alright, alright, you’ve got a _genuine_ _point_ _._ Happy, now?”  
  


“For the moment.”  
  


“Merlin?”  
  


“Shut up?”  
  


Arthur hummed in confirmation, and Merlin started laughing again.  
  


“Nah, that’s not what you actually want.”  
  


“ _Mer_ lin.”  
  


“Ar _thur_.”  
  


He looked back down at the top of Merlin’s head, and started laughing himself.  
  


“What gives you that idea?”  
  


Merlin rolled his eyes as he pulled away to take one last inspection, his hands resting on the sides of Arthur’s shoulders.  
  


“If you really wanted your ‘ _precious quiet.’_ You would have had me sacked years ago.”  
  


“I tried, once or twice, but you always came back.” Arthur pointed out, lifting one of his eyebrows. “Can’t get rid of you.”  
  


“No,” Merlin grinned, eyes bright, and shook his head. “You really can’t. I’ll always be at your side, Arthur.”

* * *

Caerleon stood at the head of the long table, his goblet of wine raised high.  
  


“Today, we celebrate a treaty of peace between the kingdoms of Caerleon and Camelot. Such a thing has not been since the death of my father, but now-” He nodded towards Arthur “-It is once more.”  
  


Arthur nodded as Caerleon lowered his goblet, before turning to Gwen and smiling at her. And, at her returned smile, and her hand to his shoulder, he took a deep breath, stood from his chair, picking up as goblet as he did, and spoke.  
  


"Thank you, king Caerleon, queen Annis. It’s wonderful to be able to celebrate such a monumental thing.” He said,  
  


“The new treaty between our two kingdoms is one I would like to see prosper as the years go by, and I hope, perhaps, to do something our fathers’ treaty didn’t. I would like it to last beyond us, and provide our children a sense of security, for them to know that they can lean on this alliance in times of need." He lifted his goblet, and tipped it slightly towards Caerleon and Annis.  
  


Annis grabbed her own goblet as she stood, and rose it along with her husband.  
  


Arthur felt a wave of relief wash over him as the rest of the table applauded. He could see, vaguely, the image of Caerleon before him, the edge between _this_ , and _war_ , and how thin that line had been.  
  


He took a long sip from his wine, before he set his goblet back on the table, meeting the king and queen’s eyes meaningfully.  
  


The both of them nodded, almost imperceptibly, to him, and he once again gathered himself as he turned to look at Gwen.  
  


“Guinevere, I’ve known you most of my life, first when Leon would drag me to play with him, and you were always in the background with your mother, and, as the years passed, you would join us,” He grinned, wide, and held his hand out to her.  
  


She took it, though there was obvious confusion on her face, and he pulled her to stand.  
  


“You had us beaten dead to rights every time it came to catching frogs, and you would chase us around in the mud without a care, and it was the only time in my childhood I felt _free-”_ Gwen laughed, wiping at her eye with her free hand “-And then you came to work in the castle, and I saw you even more. Though I have to admit I didn’t quite see all of you, just yet. I had forgotten the muddy footed girl with frogs on her shoulders who called Leon a brother the same way as I did, all I saw was the polite handmaiden of Morgana that you became.”  
  


Gwen ducked her head down, though Arthur could still see the corners of her smile, and her shoulders shook with laughter.  
  


“But then… Well, Leon refused to knock me off my horse in a jousting competition, so Merlin and I hatched a plan-” He heard Leon choke, and laughter from Merlin followed by a _thumping_ sound that was no doubt him trying to help the knight breathe again “-And I was a complete and utter prat, and a horrid house guest, and suddenly you weren’t Morgana’s polite handmaid anymore, but the fierce hearted girl who didn’t mind I was the prince, and you told me exactly what you thought.”  
  


Gwen looked up, and there were tears in her eyes, but her smile looked like it was about to split her face. It was absolutely _beautiful.  
  
_

“And from that day on, I’ve loved you, Guinevere.” He reached out, and caressed her cheek for a moment, before he slowly slid the ring off his finger, and went down on one knee, and held it up to her.  
  


“Guinevere, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”  
  


Gwen gasped, her lips trembling, and in a moment his arms were full of her. He looped them around her, and held her closely.  
  


He adjusted his head, pressing his forehead against her temple. “Is that a yes?” He whispered into her ear, laughing a little.”  
  


“Oh!” She pulled away, her fingers digging gently into his shoulders, “Yes. Yes, _of course_ , Arthur.” She giggled, taking her left hand off of his shoulder and holding it out to him.  
  


He grinned, and slowly slid it onto her finger before standing up, and pulling her close by her hands before lifting them to her face and cupping it, gently.  
  


And he kissed her to the applause of the table, a subtly drowned out noise as he pulled away and stared at her face. Taking his time to soak in her smile.  
  


Queen Annis’ voice broke over the din.  
  


“To the celebration of another union, far greater than this treaty. I wish you eternal happiness.”  
  


The two of them pulled away from each other slightly, and looked to her, seeing her smile and raise her goblet in Gwen’s direction.  
  


“Guinevere, I look forward to seeing how you bring your compassion, empathy, and gentle heart to the governing of Camelot. I am sure you will rule well, and keep Arthur’s head on his shoulders,” She laughed, slightly, mirth flooding her features. “Both figuratively, and _literally._ ”  
  


Gwen laughed, and reached down to grab her goblet, lifting it in Annis’ direction.  
  


“Thank you, Annis. I look forward to furthering our relationship as queens of allied kingdoms.”  
  


Annis nodded, and sat back down, placing her hand on top of Caerleon’s. They looked at each other in a way that made Arthur smile, their love so clear in their faces.  
  


Gwen’s fingers linked with his, and she pulled him down to sit in his chair again, as she took her own. Though her hand never left his. And he’d never pull his away, either.


	21. Burning books can't hide what is (History written down is history remembered)

Morgana stared out the window of the guest chambers.  
  


Or, well, _her_ chambers. As Elaine had so insisted, since Morgana had told her she would be staying.  
  


The bookshelves within it had already been emptied of everything but for the books she had wanted to keep, and the crystals that contained a faint glow as a part of Elaine’s ‘ _Safeguards, against_ _both_ _Morgause’s magic, and any nightmares you may have.’  
  
_

Morgana had questioned Elaine on how she knew about the nightmares, and Elaine had smiled softly at her and taken her hand. ‘ _Seers come from bloodlines, dear, and your mother_ _comes from such a bloodline_ _. I simply guessed.’  
  
_

She had wanted to ask Elaine about her mother _so badly_. But after learning of Morgause’s actions, she didn’t think she could take anymore heartbreak. Knowing for sure if her mother had died, as she always assumed, would wreck her. Learning that she’d just _left,_ she thought, would _destroy her.  
  
_

So, she didn’t ask. And she stared out her window, down at the meadow that reached into the sprawling forest beyond, the sinking sun giving everything an orange back glow, like fire licking at the world, and carded her fingers through her hair.  
  


Elaine had offered to help Morgana brew a potion that would help it grow faster, but she’d turned her down.  
  


Her father had always loved her hair, had always paid close attention to how her wet nurses, and later her handmaidens, had done it, and then attempted the styles himself.  
  


His fingers would weave through the strands, pulling and twisting them, and they never ended up quite so good as the women that surrounded her did them. Nimble fingers put up against scarred, battle worn hands, but they always turned out better than anyone expected.  
  


Save for Morgana, she had always looked up to her father, thought he could do _anything_ , so it was no surprise that he could do _that_.  
  


She’d heard him being praised for being so good, and questioned as to _how_.  
  


‘ _Practice.’_ He’d always said, despite having grown up with no sisters. Not even a mother with whose hair he could have played with when young.  
  


And the handmaidens would not have asked him if he’d ever done Morgana’s mother’s hair. They would have _known_ , because they had been Morgana’s mother’s handmaidens before she married Morgana’s father.  
  


She sighed, and tightened her fingers around her hair as she closed her eyes.  
  


She hoped Gorlois wasn’t too disappointed in her. She hoped she could make him proud once again, and live up to his name.  
  


Maybe she didn’t have his blood, but she grew up with his love. That’s what mattered, above everything else.  
  


And so, letting it grow on it’s own felt like a new start. Felt a little like freedom from all her mistakes. Like if the ruined bits of her hair could be chopped off, and the rest of it saved, perhaps she could be, too.  
  


Perhaps she could chop off all the nasty bits that thrived deep within her that had made it so easy for Morgause to twist her into something darker, and still be _herself_ , and not some mangled mess.  
  


So, Morgana had turned down the potion. She would track her healing with the growing of her hair. And when she fell backwards, into the abyss of fear that had boiled and bubbled until it was red hot anger while she was with Morgause, she’d take an inch off of it again.  
  


She lay down and pulled the covers over her body, letting her eyes close as the last threads of sunlight crept out of her room.

* * *

“ _ **Father?” Morgana called, her voice scratchy and face wet as her fingers curled around the doorway. She peeked her head into the library, her eyes squinting as she tried to see her father with only the one candle, which only cast a little light upon his face.  
**_

_**There was movement in the shadow, and the orange light made his blue eyes shine as they met with hers.  
  
** _

_**His mouth, much more illuminated, stretched into a smile. “Morgana, dear,” He said, shutting the book and setting it aside before opening his arms wide. “Come, what’s the matter?”  
  
** _

_**She ran forward, and flung herself into his arms, letting herself be hoisted up and sat on his lap. Let herself be cradled close as she buried her head in the crook of his neck.  
  
** _

“ _ **Morgana, talk to me, love. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He whispered, his fingers trailing through her hair and gently working at any knots that had gathered while she tossed and turned in bed.  
  
**_

_**She hiccupped, before pulling away and wiping at her face. “I had a nightmare, father.”  
  
** _

“ _ **Oh? What about, dear?”  
  
**_

_**She shook her head, her throat closing up. She didn’t want to speak of it, it had been too horrible to bear.  
  
** _

“ _ **Morgana, talking about it, letting it out of you and into the air, will help. I promise.” Her father said, cupping her face and swiping a thumb under one of her eyes.  
  
**_

“ _ **I-” She stopped, hiccupping again. Her shoulders shook, but she leaned into her father’s hand. “It was awful. There was Arthur, but he was all grown up, and there was another boy, with eyes like the ocean.” She swallowed, shaking her head. “Not because they were blue, they were, but that’s not… Looking into them, it felt like you could never see the bottom of them, and they looked so** old **, but he had to have been younger than Arthur was in the dream.”  
  
**_

“ _ **That doesn’t sound too terrible. There are plenty of people with souls, and eyes that show them, much older than their bodies.”  
  
**_

“ _ **That wasn’t the bad part. We were friends, and we laughed together, and… And he brought a freedom that… That felt like it had been forgotten. A fresh breeze during a sweltering day.  
  
**_

“ _ **And?”  
  
**_

“ _ **He was**_ _ **so sad , father. It didn’t feel right, that someone who brought so much happiness should be so deeply sad, and hide it with a smile.”  
  
**_

_**Her father smiled gently at her, and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “Well, I suppose, if you ever meet this boy, you’ll just have to help him smile for real.”  
  
** _

“ _ **It felt like he was sad because of me, though.”  
  
**_

“ _ **Morgana,” Her father said, sternly, and Morgana finally looked up to meet his eyes for the first time since she’d been lifted into his lap. “Sometimes, there is nothing you can do to prevent making someone sad. Accidents happen, mistakes are made, but do you know what you can**_ _ **always choose to do, after?”  
  
**_

“ _ **What, father?”  
  
**_

“ _ **Apologize, make amends, do**_ _ **better from then on. Understand?”  
  
**_

_**Morgana nodded, “Yes, father.”  
  
** _

“ _ **Good,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Now, let’s get you back to bed.”**_

* * *

Morgana walked through the library, her fingers trailing across the spines of the books, dipping and raising like the steady rhythm of breathing.  
  


It was still all together too much for her to comprehend. Elaine had said that Morgause had been… Had been _changing_ her, _molding_ her mind. But Morgana knew, deep down, that she had only been bringing Morgana’s deepest, darkest thoughts to the surface. Had only been riling her anger at Uther and her grief for all the innocents he has killed and using them against her.  
  


She _knew_ that nothing she had done was something forced on her, only something that had been encouraged, gently and slowly, to the surface of her soul.  
  


It wouldn’t be fair to say any different. It wouldn’t be fair to go to Arthur and claim every last bit of it on Morgause, because it had still been _her_ in the end of it all.  
  


Her fingers caught on something, and she turned to take a careful look.  
  


A crest, emblazoned onto the spine of a particularly large, red leather bound, book.

_The Le Fay crest._

She looked towards the door into the library, listening carefully for any footfalls outside, before tugging the book from the shelf and sitting down right there on the floor.  
  


The edges were burnt and charred, as if it had been thrown into a fire, but was saved in time to avoid too much damage. And the crest was proudly emblazoned on the front cover of it as well.  
  


Her fingers hovered above it, and she could feel her eyes begin to tear up.  
  


She carefully opened it, didn’t want to risk damaging it even more.  
  


And she nearly shoved it away. It had felt like being burned, seeing what lay on the page.  
  


Because; _How_?  
  


Because; _Oh.  
  
_

Because; _Just one more secret Uther kept from us, just one more that Morgause kept from **me**. Just one more lie. Magic may have been banned, but even if it hadn’t, this would have still reared up to be Camelot’s ruin.  
  
_

Morgana shut the book, and no matter how much she wanted to _slam_ it, she did it gently. And stood up to carefully slot it back into it’s place on the shelf.  
  


She backed away, and turned towards the door. She even managed to take a few steps away from it.  
  


Her feet felt like they were trudging through knee deep mud, and her nails were digging into the flesh of her palm. And her jaw hurt, from clenching her teeth so tightly. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes immediately landing on the book with the Le Fay crest.  
  


She swallowed, and looked away again, took another step away from it and towards the exit.  
  


She managed to make it all the way out to the hallway, the library door already swinging shut behind her.

  
Her fingers stopped it, and she turned right back around. She couldn't leave just yet.


	22. Misty mountain memories, so hard to grasp (As they sink into the inky waters)

He breathed slow, his hand to his chest as he counted, counted, _counted_. His heart was too slow. Not noticeably so, anyone who felt it wouldn’t be _concerned,_ really. But it was still _too slow_.  
  


His heart had always been a bit faster than most. He didn’t know why that was, really, it just always had been.  
  


Maybe it was due to his mother, woman of a different world, with ancient words on her tongue and dark eyes that glowed gold when no one but he or his father were looking, who spoke longingly of an island filled with brothers and sisters of old. The magic flowing through her veins flowing through his. Not gracing him golden eyes but rather a golden soul.  
  


Maybe it was because he’d grown up for the first seven years of his life in a sprawling village that wrapped around one of the Feorre mountains. His heart beat, beat, _beating_ to the thud, thud, _thud_ of bare feet racing across wood-slat bridges.  
  


But, regardless of the _how_ of it, his heart had _always_ been fast. The beat, beat, _beating_ of it faster then the thud, thud, _thud_ of the bandits, destroying his village, sending the wooden-slat bridges into the mist below.  
  


He could always outrun the other kids of his village. He wasn’t surprised he could outrun the bandits on territory they didn’t know.  
  


He’d timed learning the sword to his heartbeat, always two seconds faster than any opponent he faced, two seconds faster to move away from their lunges, two seconds faster to block their blows, two seconds faster to strike.  
  


He’d won, a lot, that way. It was how he’d lived so long. But he had to learn to slow it down, too, to not let others know the advantage he held over them until the last possible moment.

* * *

_**He hit the ground hard, but he hadn’t lost just yet. Because the Prince turns his back, and doesn’t make sure he stays down.  
** _

_**He’s up and sweeping the prince’s feet out from under him before Arthur knows what’s happening. Before he knows what’s happening.** _

* * *

But now the beat of it felt syrupy slow. Because two seconds slower than a normal heartbeat was four second slower to him, and it sent him off-kilter.  
  


He tried to get himself lost, whenever he found he could control his body, tried to wander well off the path.  
  


It never worked, he’d always be right back on track the next time he gained control.  
  


He was never able to just walk off a cliff, or into other such dangers. He’d get shut out of his own body even faster, that way. So, he wandered.  
  


Running was too weird, now. Like his heart couldn’t keep up with his legs, and it made his body sense _danger_ and snapped him out of it, sent him tumbling into the dark abyss of his own mind.  
  


So, he simply walked. As far away from Camelot as he could, each and every time he was in control.  
  


It was all he could do.

* * *

It wasn’t enough.  
  


He is stuck in the back of his mind once again, and his body, controlled by the inky black that sat within him, lay in the mud and forest debris.  
  


He knew this place.  
  


He knew this place well. He’d been here he didn’t know how many times.  
  


_Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop.  
  
_

Hooves against the ground, heavy enough to feel through the earth.  
  


“Wo-ah!” A voice called. The horses pulling against their reins, stretching the leather and sending pebbles skittering across the ground as they stopped.  
  


He struggled, tried to fight back to the front so he could roll out of vision, hide himself and not be discovered.  
  


“Hold it, men! There’s something in the ditch.”  
  


‘ _No. No, no, no. Please don’t.’  
  
_

He spent so much time trying to fight himself, he didn’t even realize hands were clutching his face until he was violently ripped to the front of his mind again.  
  


“-There’s just no way…” The knight was saying. Fingers digging into his skin almost painfully.  
  


He kept his eyes closed, kept his breathing the same as it had been, didn’t want to do _anything_ that would make anyone ask him _questions.  
  
_

“What is it, Sir Kay?” Another voice called, muffled from this distance.  
  


“I…” Kay muttered, and no wonder he recognized that voice. Of _course_ it was sir Kay. “I’m not entirely sure.”  
  


“What do you mean, you’re ‘ _Not entirely sure.’_?”  
  


“I _mean_ ,” Kay hissed, his voice muffling, maybe turning his head over his shoulder. “I’m _not entirely sure_.”  
  


The fingers were still dug against his skin, but the hands were gentle, if not trembling a little.  
  


A splash of wet landed on his cheek, rolling down the side.  
  


“It’s…” Kay trailed off, his voice growing clearer again. “It’s _impossible._ ”  
  


“Sir Kay!”  
  


“Just look! Just come here and look and you’ll see what I mean!” Kay sobbed, and there were more splashes of wet, and _oh._ Kay was crying.  
  


There was twigs breaking and leaves crunching and stones tumbling.  
  


There was a strangled gasp.  
  


“... _What?”  
  
_

“I _told_ you.” Kay whispered, barely loud enough to be hear, his voice breaking as his fingers tightened and loosened.  
  


“We…” The other voice said, and paused, twigs cracking and leaves crunching as the one he didn’t know, though it sounded like Bedivere, paced. “We need to get him to Gaius. We’ll go from there, just… We Just get him up, get him on a horse, and get him to Gaius. He’ll know what to do, right?”  
  


“Right…” Kay audibly swallowed, and his hands finally moved from his face, looping under his shoulders while, presumably, Bedivere grabbed his legs.  
  


His heart twisted painfully as syrupy words echoed in head, thumping along with his too slow heart.  
  


‘ _So much to do, so much to do. Oh dear sir Lancelot, so brave, so noble. You’re going to destroy them all. And they won’t even see it coming until they’re standing in the crumbling ruins of Camelot.’  
  
_

There was nothing he could do. He was a prisoner within his own body.  
  


He had been made into a weapon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I aware Bedivere technically already appeared in Merlin? Yes.
> 
> Do I care? No. They did him dirty so I’m making it right. I take a hammer and fix canon with violence.


	23. Memories of bonds forged in spilled blood (So easy to pray on)

“It’s so good to be back home.” Gwen sighed, gazing out of the window of the carriage that Annis had given them as an engagement present. The trees were passing by at a serene pace, and the sound of the horses hooves hitting the dirt outside, occasionally snapping a branch or sending a rock skittering across the ground, drifted in.  
  


Arthur smiled, and leaned back as he closed his eyes. She was right, of course. It _was_ good to be home. To see the familiar landscapes, and the citadel in the far distance against the blue of the clear sky.  
  


They would be passing through one last outlying village before one last long stretch of nothingness, and then they would reach the farms right outside the outer walls _,_ where there would be people doing the last of their summer harvesting.  
  


The _clip-clop_ of a horse drew over to their window, and Merlin leaned down slightly to peer inside.  
  


“Would you mind letting Aithusa inside with you for a while? He doesn’t want to go in his bag, and we’re getting close to Oakenbury.”  
  


Gwen was already reaching her hands out of the space. “Of course, Merlin!”  
  


Arthur stifled his laughter in the crook of his elbow as Merlin dislodged Aithusa from his shoulders, and passed him into Gwen’s arms.  
  


The dragon immediately crawled over her shoulder and jumped down to the bottom of the carriage, circling around and stomping his feet at the wood beneath him, snuffling unhappily.  
  


Merlin handed Gwen both Aithusa’s bag, as well as another bag, which she opened and pulled an apple out of.  
  


“Aithusa,” she called, drawing the dragon’s attention. His eyes widened, and he started tamping his front legs in anticipation.  
  


Gwen laughed, and tossed it to him, and Aithusa reared up on his hind legs to catch it.  
  


“You all spoil that dragon.” He pointed out, making Gwen laugh again as she dug another apple out.  
  


She held it out to him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, please, you know you want to.”  
  


Arthur bit his lip, though even that couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth turning upwards as he took the apple. He waved it for a moment, watching as Aithusa swayed his body with the movement, his eyes locked onto the fruit.  
  


He tossed it forward, and watched as it fell into a downwards arc before Aithusa lunged into the air and grabbed it in his mouth, his teeth digging into it. The apple cracking slightly under the pressure before Aithusa tossed it back into the air with a flick of his head, and caught it whole in is mouth.  
  


He heard the crunches as the apple slowly fell to pieces from being crushed on all sides, before Aithusa swallowed it.  
  


Gwen grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes.  
  


“You already know you were right, do you really have to rub it in?”  
  


“Always. Otherwise I might have to drag you back to my home and give you another stern talking to.”  
  


Arthur snorted, shaking head head as Aithusa settled in between his legs, laying his head down on his front legs.  
  


“You know...” Gwen started, before trailing off, and he looked up at her.  
  


“Know what?”  
  


Gwen sighed, and turned back to look at him again, a gentle smile on her face. “As much as I enjoyed taking the long route to go to Caerleon, I’m glad we’re taking the shorter route back. I don’t think I could have stayed away another _week_.”  
  


He nodded, and looked past her to take in the rolling fields, and the beginnings of farmland as they drew ever closer to Oakenbury. “Me, too. When we were leaving Caerleon, I could barely stand the idea of Agravaine still having three days of all but Gaius leaving him be. I doubt I could have taken a week more.”  
  


Gwen nodded, and took his hand in both of hers and bringing it up to her mouth, pressing her lips to the back of it.  
  


“Only a little while longer, Arthur. We’ll get what we need from him, and then we’ll go from there.”  
  


Arthur sighed, and closed his eyes.  
  


“He’s committing treason, Gwen.”  
  


“Yes, he is.” She said, and he could tell by her voice that she was confused as to why he was bringing up this obvious fact.  
  


“I can’t kill him, Gwen. I know it’s the law, but I can’t be the reason that the last of my mother’s family dies.” He took a breath, and slowly opened his eyes to meet hers. “My birth is the reason for my mother dying, and it was her death that drove my uncle Tristan to challenging my father." He sighed.  
"And... I didn't make it clear to Morgana that I'd always be there for her, and so she may as well be dead, with how different she was the last time I saw her. And my father took a knife for me, weakening him enough to be poisoned without anyone realizing..." His breath hitched, and he shook his head, swallowing thickly. "Gwen, I can’t be the reason one more family member is dead.”  
  


“Oh, Arthur…” Gwen breathed, taking one hand away from his and cupping his cheek, her thumb running soothingly across his cheekbone. “I’m sure we can figure out some other sort of punishment.”  
  


“Gwen…” Arthur licked his lips, for suddenly they were too dry, but so was his mouth, his throat. “Gwen, I know the counsel, they wouldn’t accept anything less than death for a crime like treason.”  
  


“But they’re not the king, are they?” Gwen tilted her head, lifting an eyebrow. “They are your counsel, your _advisors_. And while you certainly need to take what they say into account, they do not make the final decision.”  
  


Arthur felt a smile tugging at his lips, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against his.  
  


“Have I told you yet, that I can’t wait to have you as my queen?” He whispered.  
  


She laughed, bright and sunny and so _Gwen-like._ “Oh, just about a dozen times. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

* * *

When they finally reached the citadel, the people stopped within the courtyard and stared.  
  


Arthur knew why. They had left upon seven horses, and now they were returning with Arthur and Gwen’s horses hooked up to a carriage, and only the knights and Merlin upon horses.  
  


It sent a good message, but Arthur had a little something more in mind.  
  


Merlin tugged open the doors to the carriage, and Arthur stepped down, before grinning as he turned and took Gwen’s hand, positioning it just so, so that the ring upon her finger caught the sunlight as she ducked out.  
  


Her other hand was taken by Elyan, and the two of them helped her step down, her feet landing softly and gracefully on the familiar ground of Camelot’s citadel.  
  


Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the knights and courtiers begin to gather as they stared, and couldn’t help the widening of his grin as they leaned in close to each other and began whispering. The news would hit the lower town very soon, he was sure.  
  


for now… He refocused on Gwen, and watched as Merlin, who hadn’t seemed to stop grinning since the proposal as far as Arthur knew, came back over and wrapped a white, silk shawl around her shoulders.  
  


It went with her soft, flowing, purple dress very well, and brought out the careful gold and silver designs of the flower that lined the hems.  
  


The sound of a throat clearing came from his side, and Arthur forced his gaze away from Gwen to see one of the stablehands.  
  


“Yes?” He asked. He could only assume it was about the horses, even if they all were already being tended to by other stablehands, Gwen’s and his horses being unhooked from the carriage and showered with rough scratches along their neck, and a feast of apples.  
  


The stablehand swallowed, as if nervous, before he spoke up.

  
“There’s someone here, your majesty. He was brought back just two days ago, by Sir Kay and Sir Bedivere.” He pointed towards the castle steps, and Arthur blinked, confused, and followed the line that the stablehand’s arm, hand, and finger made.  
  


His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open as he heard Gwen’s soft gasp and Merlin’s strangled choke.  
  


Right in front of them, coming down the castle steps, coming _towards_ them…  
  


Was _Lancelot._  
  



	24. All the cursed things of the past (Remember them, amend them)

Morgana found herself back in the library, tracing the images on the last page of the book carefully with her fingers. She’d been in here everyday since she first made this discovery.  
  


It had been four days.  
  


She still couldn’t quite comprehend it. It just wasn’t setting in.  
  


It couldn’t be _real_ , but there it was, inked carefully onto the page in Geoffrey’s unique hand.  
  


The door to the library clicked open, and Morgana closed the book as quickly and carefully as she could, hiding it behind her back as Elaine came in.  
  


By the look on her face, Morgana wasn’t fooling her one bit. Though she didn’t look angry, at all. No, just…  
  


Just _sad_. Sad, and resigned, and a little pitiful.  
  


“Morgana…?” She asked, tilting her head and closing the door softly behind her.  
  


Morgana swallowed, and carefully pulled the book back out in front of her, holding it out towards Elaine.  
  


“It’s got my father’s crest on it… My _real_ father, that is, and I… I just…” She trailed off, biting her lip.  
  


Elaine seemed to float towards her, and she wrapped careful fingers around the book. Morgana was reluctant to let go of it, but she did, in the end.

“Is that really how you see him? Gorlois, I mean… As your _real_ father?”  
  


Morgana swallowed, and lifted her chin, curling her fingers into fists no matter how her hands shook. “Yes, it is. He raised me, he taught me everything I know, he… He was the one who _loved_ me.”  
  


Elaine looked back up from the book, and though her eyes were wet, she was smiling. “Good, I’m glad.”  
  


“Elaine…” Morgana breathed, biting her lip. She could feel her own eyes slowly filling with tears. “How…? I mean… What is this?”  
  


Elaine’s smile took on a bitter look, and she carefully opened the book, right to the page Morgana hadn’t been able to look away from the past four days. She sighed, sounding weary, “Your mother was not the first woman that Uther took from under Gorlois’ nose, though _she_ was a well kept secret from the court and other nobles, as opposed to Morgause’s and my mother.”  
  


“But… How was this ever allowed? If she was already married to our father?”  
  


Elaine’s lips quirked upwards as Morgana said ‘ _Our f_ _ather.’,_ and a warmth grew inside Morgana. She then shrugged, tilting her head to the side. “Uther was the king, he had the power to strike their marriage from the records.”  
  


Morgana’s gut twisted, and she wanted to rip the fragile book from Elaine’s hands and slam it shut, so as to avoid looking at it further. But she didn’t, she forced herself to look at the name of Elaine and Morgause’s mother, listed as wife to the man who raised her.  
  


The same name as Arthur’s mother.  
  


She reached out, and touched her fingers to the ink.  
  


“Uther… Morgause told me that Uther had told a sorceress to use magic... For Arthur to be conceived.”  
  


Elaine nodded, her face falling. “Yes,” She sighed. “My mother had fallen ill for a while, shortly after Morgause’s birth. And for the year that she was still married to our father, and we were together as a family, they tried to have another.” She lifted a hand to Morgana’s cheek, cupping it gently.  
  


“Our father had always wanted three daughters, wouldn’t have minded a son, of course.” She shrugged, and a smile slipped back on to her face. “But a dream is a dream, and my mother shared that dream, but… She never could conceive again. Naturally, that is.”  
  


Morgana frowned as Elaine’s face dropped again, and she closed her eyes and bit her lip, before continuing in a shaky voice.  
  


“And then Uther ripped us apart. Our father and my mother asked Gaius to fake an illness for Morgause, and then spirit her away to the Blessed Isles with her death as a cover story, and I was sent to live with my uncle, Tristan, and his family.”  
  


Morgana wondered, momentarily, if the reason for the dark thoughts buried deep in her mind was because of the blood she received from Uther.  
  


But, if that were true...If that were true, Arthur would be the same. And he _wasn’t,_ he was as far from being like Uther as the sky was from the deepest depths of the ocean.  
  


It was _all her_.  
  


It was all the things deep inside her that had starting rotting when her _true_ father died, and she began living under Uther directly, forced to watch as person after person was accused and sentenced for magic, and killed.  
  


Forced to watch as their death was celebrated.  
  


It was all of the things that Morgause had tended to, in a twisted sort of way. She encouraged the rot and festering, encouraged it to take the rest of Morgana.  
  


And Morgana had let it, just for some semblance of safety and love.  
  


“Elaine…?” She whispered, pulling away and meeting Elaine’s soft blue eyes, so much like Arthur’s. So much like Igraine’s, she was sure.  
  


“Yes, Morgana?”  
  


Morgana swallowed, didn’t know if what she was asking was...Right.  
  


But she took a deep breath and asked anyways.  
  


“What Morgause wants to do… Take over Camelot, put… Put _me_ on the throne, over Arthur… Do you…” She trailed off, and bit her lip, casting her eyes to the side.  
  


“No, I don’t agree with it.” Elaine said, a touch of bitterness lacing her words. “I love Morgause, she is my little sister after all, but I’ve been keeping a careful eye on Arthur with my scrying, and he’s doing excellent.”  
  


She reached out, and tucked a piece of hair back behind Morgana’s ear. “That isn’t to say I wouldn’t want to see you on the throne, but Arthur is my little brother, just as I consider you a little sister, so…” She trailed off, and Morgana looked back at her face, brows furrowed. “I suppose I just want as much of my family to be happy as possible.”  
  


“Is he? Doing well, I mean” Morgana asked, and watched as a broad smile stretched across Elaine’s face at the question.  
  


She nodded, “Yes, he is. I can’t always see him, these days he is often hidden by a spell meant to protect secrets, but the very fact that it is so often cast around him, visibly, by that young man…” She trailed off, her nose scrunching in thought, before continuing. “I believe his name is Merlin? Well, I can only assume he’s got no ill thoughts about magic.”  
  


Morgana released a shaky breath. Yes, that seemed right, considering what Agravaine told her about Arthur having Merlin use magic to heal Uther.  
  


But still… She couldn’t bear the idea that Arthur was hurting. His father dead, his uncle betraying him, even if he didn’t know it…  
  


She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.  
  


“Elaine, there’s something I need to do. I’m sorry, but I need to leave.”  
  


She opened her eyes to meet Elaine’s, and saw that she was smiling once more, a knowing look in her own eyes.  
  


Elaine nodded. “Of course, Morgana.”  
  


Morgana smiled, and nodded, and pulled Elaine down into a hug, before leaving the library to return to her room.  
  


She had much to prepare.


	25. And memories of friends put to rest (Too painful to think on)

“ _There’s someone here, your majesty. He was brought back just yesterday, by Sir Kay and Sir Bedivere.” He pointed towards the castle steps, and Arthur blinked, confused, and followed the line that the stablehand’s arm, hand, and finger made.  
  
_

_His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open as he heard Gwen’s soft gasp and Merlin’s strangled choke.  
  
_

_Right in front of them, coming down the castle steps, coming **towards** them…  
  
_

_Was **Lancelot.**_

* * *

Merlin couldn’t _breathe._ This couldn’t be real, it just _couldn’t_. It had to be some sort of trick.  
  


Lancelot was just stepping off the last step, sir Kay five steps behind him, when Gwen grabbed Merlin’s hand, carefully prying it from her shoulder, their fingers intertwining in a death-like grip. She was breathing, but too hard, too fast.  
  


Arthur’s breaths were controlled, but his entire body was tense, ready to spring, his hand twitching ever so slightly towards his sword inside the carriage. And why not? Lancelot was supposed to be _dead_ , and dead things come back to life was never anything good.  
  


And his eyes were a tad too dark, but he _grinned_ , and it was almost too real, not as wide as it usually was, but it was _Lancelot’s smile_.  
  


The other knights gathered around them, and Gwaine sounded just as breathless as Merlin felt when he whispered ‘ _Lancelot?’  
  
_

“Hey…” Lancelot called, coming to a stop in front of them, his eyes, still too dark even this close up, were wet with tears, or at least they looked it. “Did you miss me?”  
  


Merlin was still frozen in place, not daring to move, not daring to even _blink_ , in case this was all some illusion, or he fell asleep on his horse. He knew that if it was due to a spell, he _should_ break it, but…  
  


But he’d _missed_ Lancelot, so _badly_ , so _fiercely._ It still broke his heart every other day when he would look at all they were doing for the legalization of magic, and remember that _Lancelot wasn’t there.  
  
_

It still felt like a betrayal that he’d told everyone about his magic, and _Lancelot hadn’t been at his side_.  
  


In the end, it was Leon who finally approached Lancelot, grabbing at the other knights shoulders.  
  


“Lancelot?” He breathed out, clearly in just as much disbelief as the rest of them.  
  


Lancelot’s lips twitched, his grin widening slightly, before he tilted his head. “So, has anyone been giving Gwaine proper trouble in training while I was gone?”  
  


Leon dropped his head against Lancelot’s, his fingers tightening and his shoulders shaking as he laughed. Gwaine wasn’t far behind, stumbling into Percival, who barely caught him, as relieved chuckles spilled from his lips.  
  


Arthur was the next to approach, putting his hand on Leon’s shoulder and slowly pulling him back, his other reaching out to grab at Lancelot’s arm.  
  


A moment later, he pulled Lancelot into a tight hug. He seemed startled for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around Arthur and dropped his onto onto his shoulder.  
  


Arthur pulled back, but didn’t let go of the knight.  
  


“It’s good to have you back, Lancelot. But...How?”  
  


Lancelot smiled, though something about it was just a little bit off, and made Merlin furrow his brows in confusion.  
  


“it’s good to _be_ back, Arthur.” He said, before the smile dropped, and a regret bled into his features. “I wish I could tell you, but...I honestly don’t remember. One moment, I was walking into the veil, the next…” He shrugged. “I was waking up somewhere in the Feorre mountains, with the Madhavi people caring for me. Once I was finally well enough to travel on my own, I started on my way to Camelot.”  
  


“I was told that Kay and Bedivere brought you back?”  
  


Lancelot nodded, “I was… Determined to get back home as soon as I could. I wasn’t stopping to sleep, much, or get food and water. I don’t even remember collapsing. And I woke up yesterday to Gaius tending to me.”  
  


Merlin turned to look at Kay, who met his eyes over Lancelot’s shoulder and nodded. And Merlin sucked in a breath of relief. At least the part about Kay and Bedivere finding him was true.  
  


He wasn’t sure about the rest, but for now...For now Lancelot was _back_.  
  


Arthur nodded at Lancelot’s explanation, and took his hand off of the knights arm, hooking his arm around Lancelot’s neck. “Come, let’s get you up to the castle. It’ll be good to have your space finally filled, again, old friend. We have so much to tell you.”  
  


“I look forward to it, Arthur.”  
  


Merlin finally let a smile slip onto his face, but still didn’t move.  
  


He swallowed, something still didn’t sit right with him.  
  


“Arthur,” He called, biting his lip. He didn’t know how to go about _explaining_ , but this felt important.  
  


Arthur turned and blinked, before looking to Leon. “Could you take Lancelot up to the castle? And tell the cooks to make a welcome home feast.”  
  


“Of course, Arthur.” Leon nodded, replacing Arthur’s arm around Lancelot’s neck with his own.  
  


Arthur came over to him, lifting an eyebrow. “What is it?”  
  


Merlin swallowed again, and shifted slightly, before dropping his voice low. “I want to… Can we not tell him I’ve told you all about my magic? I just…”  
  


“Want to tell him yourself? On your own terms?”  
  


Merlin grimaced, but nodded.  
  


Arthur smiled, and slung his arm over Merlin’s shoulder. “Of course, Merlin. It’s your magic.” He whispered back, barely loud enough for Merlin to hear.  
  


His grimace morphed into a real smile, “Thanks, Arthur.”

* * *

Merlin forced a smile onto his lips as he opened the door to the physician’s chambers, stepping aside to let Lancelot in.  
  


The entire feast had felt _off_ , eerily so. And it all emanated from Lancelot, coming off of him in waves.  
  


The knight had always felt… Safe, to be around. A warm, comforting presence. Like the baseline of the Isle of the Blessed, even though every time he’d been there it had had an overlaying feeling of _wrong_.  
  


In fact… Being around Lancelot, now, felt _exactly_ like being on the Isle of the Blessed.  
  


Gaius looked up, and smiled at them both, though it seemed to falter when he met Merlin’s eyes. As if he could tell that Merlin was _thinking_.  
  


He probably could.  
  


Lancelot seemed to hesitate at the door to Merlin’s chambers, and turned around. “Oh… Uh, Gaius was allowing me to use your room, while you were away...I don’t-”  
  


Merlin shook his head, “No, no. You can have my bed until we get your room fixed up again.”  
  


“Mer-” Lancelot started, but Merlin strode over to him and opened the door, shoving him into the chambers.  
  


“Lancelot, it’s fine. After all you’ve been through, it’s the least I can do.”  
  


Lancelot smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Merlin hoped _desperately_ that it was just because he was tired, and his ‘ _Long journey.’_ He told them about.  
  


“Thank you, Merlin. It’s good to see you, too.”  
  


Merlin bit his lip as he shut the door behind them, watching as Lancelot sat down on the bed and swung a leg over his other knee to get his boot off.  
  


“I kept…” Merlin started, before sighing and shaking his head. “Never mind.”  
  


“Merlin?” Lancelot asked, looking up and meeting his eyes, his head tilted. “What’s wrong?”  
  


he swallowed, leaning against the door, his fingers drumming against the wood. “I just...I’ve spent so long thinking about... What happened. Could I have saved you? And if there was anything I could have done. If I could have used magic…”  
  


Lancelot’s face shifted, and the knight frowned deeply.  
  


Merlin waited for the soft words of comfort, of ‘ _I chose to do it, Merlin. It’s not your fault.’  
  
_

Anything, _anything at all,_ to tell him this really was Lancelot.  
  


What he got, though, chilled him to his bones.  
  


“If any of us had any magic, Merlin…” Lancelot sighed, shaking his head. “Life would be a lot easier.”  
  


Merlin nodded, ignoring how his throat was closing up in his panic. “Yeah...It would be.” He breathed out, somehow, though he didn’t know how, managing to stay calm as he grabbed the handle to the door. “Good night, Lancelot.”  
  


“Good night, Merlin.”  
  


he ducked out of the room, closing the door as normally as he could, before he began breathing hard.  
  


Gaius looked up, and met his eyes, which he was sure were blown wide.  
  


“Oh, no. I’ve seen that look before.”  
  


Merlin swallowed, and went over to Gaius as fast and as quietly as he could, dropping his voice low.  
  


“I want to believe that everything is fine, and that we really have Lancelot back.”  
  


Gaius’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he looked over Merlin’s shoulder at the door to his bed chambers before looking back to Merlin. “It certainly looks like him.”  
  


“Yeah, it does…” Merlin breathed, shaking his head. “Keep an eye on him, alright? I’m going to go talk to the others.”  
  


Gaius nodded, and Merlin took off, heading towards Arthur’s chambers. He hoped he was still meeting with the knights and Gwen.


	26. And dream of it (The horrors that keep you up at night)

_Merlin, his gold eyes wide, dead on the ground.  
  
_

_Kay, freshly made knight, standing above him, dark smile twisting at his lips, his blade stained with red.  
  
_

_Scarlet blood streaming from his lips.  
  
_

_Kay choked, clutching at the back of his neck, as a dark creature bore through the skin.  
  
_

_He fell, hitting the ground, expression twisting into guilt and remorse before the life faded from his eyes, the creature slithering away._

* * *

Morgana jerked up, breathing hard, shoulders shaking. Her cheeks weren’t streaked with tears, for once, after waking from the nightmare. Though they were stiff, so likely they had already dried.  
  


She swallowed, her lips shuddering, and clutched at her covers.  
  


Morgana threw her covers off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pushing herself up. She was hit with a wave of dizziness, words ringing in her head.  
  


‘ _Bring me sir Kay.’  
  
_

She gasped, catching herself on one of the posts of her bed as she stumbled. Shutting her eyes tight against the vision of Kay, who couldn’t have been much older than Merlin, less than a year certainly, driving his sword through Merlin’s gut and _twisting.  
  
_

Her legs felt weak, but she forced herself to walk, however uneasily, over to one of the bookshelves, wrapping her fingers around one of the crystals and bringing it close to her heart. Feeling as the blue energy soaked into her skin, bringing with it a cooling sensation.  
  


She finally managed to suck in a full breath.  
  


Something was wrong.  
  


Something was _very_ wrong.  
  


She had planned to at least enjoy one last breakfast with Elaine, but…She had to go, _now.  
  
_

Morgana put the crystal back down, her fingers trembling as she did so, and turned to dig through the armoire until she found appropriate riding gear, and dressed herself as fast as she could.  
  


Her eyes kept going towards the crystal, and she sucked in a hug breath as she hesitated at the door, an empty satchel she planned to fill with food slung over her shoulder.  
  


“It’s too magical.” She whispered to herself, closing her eyes.  
  


But…  
  


She heaved a heavy sigh, and walked back over to the crystal, grabbing it up again and shoving it in to her satchel. Arthur was clearly fine with Merlin using magic, so…  
  


So, if anything, she’d be killed for treason, not for magic.  
  


And that thought was… Oddly comforting.

* * *

Morgana carefully pushed open the door in well lit kitchens, the fresh air on a careful breeze, carrying the scents of the meadow surrounding the manor house, a welcome feeling on her freshly washed cheeks.  
  


“Morgana?”  
  


She froze, and turned around to see Elaine leaning against a wall with an eyebrow raised.  
  


Swallowing, she forced a smile on her face. “Good morning, Elaine.”  
  


Elaine frowned, and shoved away from the wall. “It doesn’t look like too good of a morning, what with those bags you have under your eyes.”  
  


Morgana sighed, and slowly let the door swing shut. “I wasn’t able to sleep.”  
  


“Oh?” Elaine asked, walking over and cupping Morgana’s cheek. “The crystals didn’t help?”  
  


She shook her head, feeling the tears in her eyes start to get dangerously close to spilling over. “This vision, it was…” She licked her lips, “It was so strong…But-” She cut herself off, looking away, and let her hand fall protectively to the crystal inside her satchel.  
  


“’ _But’_?” Elaine prompted, tilting her head.  
  


Morgana pulled the crystal out from her satchel, and held it out to Elaine. “This one, when I held it over my heart, it helped to quell the after affects.”  
  


She hummed, and nodded, reaching for the crystal before stopping. “May I?”  
  


Morgana nodded, opening her hand more so that Elaine could grab it. She did, and turned to rifle around the kitchen for a moment, before returning, fingers wrapped around a piece of string, the crystal now caged within a complicated net of knots.  
  


She grinned, and dipped her head so that Elaine could put the necklace over her head.  
  


“Thank you, Elaine.”  
  


“Of course, Morgana” Elaine smiled, brushing a lock of Morgana’s hair, that had been too short to pull back with the rest, behind her ear. “Just be safe, please?”  
  


“I will.” Morgana told her, nodding her head.  
  


This time, when she opened the door, a horse was waiting for her.  
  


She turned back to give Elaine one more smile, before walking over to it and hauling herself into the saddle.

* * *

Morgana had been riding for a very long time, and both her, and the horse- Which she’d named Pierrick -Had been getting tired.  
  


She pulled to a stop in a very small clearing, dismounting and leading him towards a tree near the small creak, tying his reins to a branch and securing the knot with magic. She scratched at the side of Pierrick’s neck, and smiled sadly before going over to the creak herself.  
  


Morgana took in her image, her black hair barely below her shoulders, tied messily black, her skin paler than usual, dark bags under her eyes. She shivered, and stuck her hands in the water, splashing it across her face.  
  


She sighed, and slowly built a small fire, lighting it with magic before laying down near it. The night wasn’t especially cold, and the fire helped, anyways.  
  


Slowly, she let herself fall asleep.

* * *

_Gwen, pressed against a column, her hands clutching at Lancelot’s cheeks, pulling him close. His hands on her waist, fingers digging in, their lips pressed together.  
_

_Arthur, finding them, Agravaine behind him and smiling, darkness in his eyes as Arthur screamed. The sting of betrayal twisting his features, his face red and his eyes wet.  
  
_

_Gwen, strapped tight to a pyre, tears trailing down her face, mouth open in protest as a bracelet glimmered in the sunlight on her wrist.  
  
_

_Lancelot, on a platform in front of her, his hands tied down to the wooden slats, his head strapped to a block, an ax poised above his neck, a smile of defiance on his face, too-cold eyes glimmering with satisfaction.  
  
_

_Morgause, stowed away in Morgana’s- Now hers- Hut. Agravaine telling her the peasant was dead. And that the shade had done his job._

* * *

Thunder cracked across the sky, nearly drowning out the scream that tore from Morgana’s lips.  
  


She gasped, clutching at her throbbing throat as tears streamed down her face, the images of her nightmares refusing to leave her mind.  
  


She could almost see them, Merlin, Kay, Lancelot, and Gwen, dead upon the ground in front of her. Limp and lifeless and _gone_.  
  


Could almost see Agravaine, standing over Arthur, who was kneeling amongst the bodies of knights of the round table. His blade shoved deep into Arthur’s chest.  
  


Could almost see Morgause, cruel smile twisting her features, standing in front of them all. Standing above _her_ , a crown dripping with blood held high, ready to place on Morgana’s head.  
  


“Oh, no.” She sobbed, “Oh, no. No, no, no.”  
  


Morgana pushed herself up from the dirt, pine needles pricking her skin, and tried to control her breathing as she stumbled away from the vision, her back hitting a tree. She grabbed at the bark, her fingers stinging as she scrapped them across the rough surface.  
  


She had to get to Camelot, she had to _warn_ them. This couldn’t _happen._ She couldn’t _let_ this happen.  
  


‘ _Will they even listen to me? Or will they think this is all a trap?’  
  
_

She shook her head, biting down on her lip. It didn’t _matter_ , it _couldn’t_.  
  


She had to _try_. If she had learned anything at all, from being friends with Merlin, it’s that she had to _try_.  
  


Morgana took a deep breath, and let her eyes glow gold as she cast a spell to clean her appearance up again.  
  


She just had to figure out _how_ to get to Arthur, or Merlin, and _tell them_.  
  


Stumbling, she went over to Pierrick, undoing the spell keeping his reins knotted, and pulling them down from the branch. Though she did not mount him, this time, wanted to give him more rest than she had gotten.  
  


Instead, she gently tugged on his reins, urging him to follow her.

* * *

Morgana stumbled through the woods, keeping herself upright only by Pierrick’s reins, trying to orient herself. She _knew_ these woods, but a storm was brewing overhead, darkening everything as thunder rumbled ominously, and she felt helplessly confused.  
  


Her magic was reacting _wildly_ to whatever this was.  
  


Thunder rumbled in the distance once again, and she stumbled to the ground, the reins slipping from her hands _fast_ and _hot_ , her knees and hands hitting _hard,_ her chin hitting a rock.  
  


She huffed, and pushed herself back up, sitting back to take a moment to catch her breath. Her hands were raw and aching, the skin reddened scraped off in several places from the leather of the reins, and there was a warmth trailing down her chin and neck.  
  


Morgana swallowed, and tore a bit of fabric off the bottom of her tunic, pressing the dark green cloth to her chin to try and stem the bleeding. It was only a minor scrape, so she didn’t think she needed a healing spell for it.  
  


Pierrick nudged her with his snout, and she smiled a little. “I’m alright, Pierrick. It’s not that bad.”  
  


Pierrick snuffled, and nudged her again, though this time he had dipped his head lower and nudged her in the ribs.  
  


“Pierrick?”  
  


Another nudge, and Morgana sighed. “Alright, alright.” She muttered, standing up. “Is this what you want?”  
  


Pierrick nudged her in the back, and she stumbled forward.  
  


“Oof, Pierrick! What is it?”  
  


Pierrick stomped his hoof, and went to nudge her again, which Morgana quickly danced away from. “Fine, fine! If I get on, will you take me where you want me to go?”  
  


Pierrick almost seemed to _nod_ at her, and Morgana threw up her hands in disbelief. Her horse was _communicating_ with her, and she wasn’t entirely sure she _trusted it,_ but the crystal around her neck should be protecting her from Morgause’s magic, and she would much rather _not_ be constantly shoved around.  
  


She sighed, and circled around the Pierrick’s side, hooking her foot into the stirrup and hauling herself up again.  
  


“Alright, there we go, Pierr- Woah!” She had just barely grabbed the reins when Pierrick started galloping, nearly knocking her off balance while she frantically tightened her hold.  
  


Morgana ducked her head low over Pierrick’s neck, branches low enough to scrape at her back at the horse charged forward, heedless of any set path.  
  


She screwed her eyes shut, tightened her grip even more, and prayed to the triple goddess to not die by horse gone mad.

* * *

When Pierre had, _finally_ , stopped, Morgana dismounted as quickly as she could. Her legs where numb, and she stumbled a little, quickly grabbing at the side of the saddle to steady herself.  
  


“What was _that_ about?” She hissed, glaring at Pierrick.  
  


There was no response, and she huffed and made her way to the lake that Pierrick had stopped by, sinking to her knees and dipping her hands into the water.  
  


She closed her eyes splashed the cool water against her face, then did it twice more, before her racing heart had calmed and she finally opened her eyes.  
  


Only…  
  


It wasn’t her reflection staring up at her. Instead it was a young, soft-faced girl with dark, kind eyes, and brunette hair much lighter than Morgana’s own black.  
  


The girl smiled up at her, the water rippling as her face broke the surface, and she folded her arms over the part of the shallow shore in the water. For a moment, she thought she recognized the dress that the girl was wearing, but disregarded it just as quickly.  
  


Morgana swallowed, watching her carefully, too afraid to move. She didn’t want to anger a water spirit, for they were _powerful_ beings.  
  


“Hello, Morgana.” The girl said, her hair, somehow not wet, spilling over her shoulders. “My name is Freya, and I need your help delivering a message.”


	27. Where'd it all go wrong (How'd such a soul get so tangled)

Merlin groaned as he buried his head in the crook of his elbow. And Arthur grimaced and shared a look with the rest of the round table knights and Gwen.  
  


They had been discussing how best to reincorporate Lancelot into training and patrols, and how to catch him up on everything that had happened in his absence, while Merlin settled him down. But then Merlin had slammed into Arthur’s chambers and threw himself down in one of the chairs at the table, and now…  
  


Well, now he seemed to be extremely frustrated over something.  
  


“Merlin?” Gwaine asked, looping his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “You alright?”  
  


“There’s something wrong with Lancelot.” He grumbled, lifting his head and turning to face them, Gwaine’s arm sliding into a more comfortable position while he did so.  
  


Gwen’s expression creased in concern, and she walked over to him and took his hands in hers as she crouched down in front of him. “What do you mean, Merlin?”  
  


Merlin sighed, letting his head drop on a loose neck, before looking back up. “He doesn’t remember I have magic.”  
  


The room _froze,_ the silence so thick you could hear a pin drop.  
  


“Oh...Well,” Gwaine grimaced. “That’s not like him at all. Lance doesn’t forget things as important as that.”  
  


“No, it’s not, and no, he doesn’t.” Merlin sighed again, and Gwaine pressed his head against Merlin’s, frowning as he tugged him into a tighter side hug.  
  


Gwen sighed, and gave Merlin’s arms a few pumps. “Well, then. I suppose we have to figure out what’s going on, and fix him, then. Yeah?”  
  


Arthur nodded. “Yes, I want our friend back.” He looked straight at Merlin, meeting his eyes. “Do whatever you need to figure this out, and _fix it_.”  
  


Merlin nodded, smiled down at Gwen and gave her hands a squeeze, and nudged his head back against Gwaine’s before standing up.  
  


“Merlin,” he called, waited for Merlin to turn around, tried not to get swept up into how _tired_ he looked. “It’ll be alright.”  
  


Merlin’s lips twitched slightly, though just as quickly fell. Arthur considered the fact he didn’t try to hide the sadness an achievement. Though it was an achievement he hated, just a little, because it meant Merlin _was_ sad.  
  


“I hope so, Arthur. I really hope so.”

* * *

Arthur buried his head in his hands, leaning back in his chair as a low groan escaped his lips.  
  


He was, in a sense of the word, _frustrated_. It seemed to him that he could never get anything done without another thing crashing down.  
  


And this… He didn’t know if this was another thing that he was _gaining_ , or another thing he was _losing.  
  
_

Was Lancelot really _back_? Or was it an illusion?  
  


And, if he _was_ back, could they help him? Because if this was really Lancelot, then something was _wrong.  
  
_

Why had Lancelot forgotten about Merlin’s magic? Arthur could understand his memory being spotty about his year as a knight, and even further back to when they had met the first and second times, he’d come back from, presumably, _death.  
  
_

But surely something which had been the reason for Merlin’s and his closeness couldn’t be nearly so easily forgotten, _even with_ such a thing like walking through the veil?  
  


He sighed, and dropped his hands away from his face.  
  


He remembered, years ago, never doubting anything. Sure, he had his moments where he questioned his father on actions taken, or wondered where he’d gone wrong, but…  
  


Well, he hadn’t known the sting of betrayal, yet.  
  


And then Merlin came.  
  


Merlin came, and he didn’t bow down to him just because of who his father was. Merlin came, and saved his life from a mother grieving her son, who had been killed for _magic,_ and just… Never left.  
  


_He never left._ Even though he could have very easily become the very thing he first saw upon his arrival.  
  


And Arthur… Arthur began seeing the cracks that his father tried so hard to hide with grand speeches, or, when he deemed it required, locking Arthur or Morgana in the dungeons for simply daring to _disagree_ with him.  
  


The cracks that his father tried to hide by refusing to allow Arthur to save the life of the servant… The _boy_ , because Merlin had been a _boy._ Sixteen summers old, not even from Camelot, and he’d _drank poison_ for Arthur.  
  


They had barely known each other a few months. And he’d almost _died._ And Uther had been willing to _let him_ , just to teach Arthur a lesson about going against his wishes.  
  


Arthur buried his head in his hands again, shoving that line of thought away. He couldn’t afford to think of his father right now, he had much more important matters to focus on.  
  


Like figuring out what was going on with Lancelot.  
  


And figuring out what to do with Agravaine, after he’d been exposed as a traitor.  
  


And planning the wedding with Guinevere.  
  


And working on the repeal of magic.  
  


He sighed, before dragging his hands from his face, placing them on the table and pushing himself up from his chair.  
  


There was a lot to do, and two of those things had strict time schedules to get them done by.

* * *

_Morgause tapped her fingers against the table, her eyes slowly sliding to the side as the door swung open on their creaky hinges.  
_

“ _You better be here for a very good reason. If you keep sneaking out like this, you’ll surely be discovered.”  
  
_

“ _I know,_ _my lady. But.. I have news.”  
  
_

“ _Oh?” she twisted her body, to look at Agravaine full on as she lifted an eyebrow. “What is it, then?”  
  
_

“ _I’m sure you’d be very proud, my lady. Arthur and his knights were completely taken in.”  
  
_

“ _And the peasant? Surely this is the last thing she’s hoped for, so close to her wedding to Arthur.”  
  
_

_Agravaine shook his head, his lips pressed together in clear annoyance. “If she was flustered, she certainly didn’t show it. I fear she truly does love Arthur. Any feelings she had for Lancelot are in the past.”  
  
_

_Morgause hummed, before standing up and crossing to a table underneath the window, opening a box that lay there. The moonlight from outside caught the metal, and she smiled. “I had considered that eventuality.”  
_

_She pulled the bracelet out of his box, and let her eyes bleed glow as the spell spilled from her lips, the bracelet gleaming as it seemed to absorb the moons light for a moment.  
  
_

“ _I feel… It is time to reawaken those feelings.”  
  
_

“ _Yes, my lady.”  
  
_

_She turned, and looked at Agravaine.  
  
_

“ _And the serving boy? Arthur brought him to the isle of the blessed, the first time we met, clearly he’s rather important.”  
  
_

_Agravaine sat down at the table, his face like a thundercloud. “He’s proving a little more... **D** **ifficult**.”  
  
_

“ _Well,” Morgause said, “I suppose we’ll just need to get rid of him, then.”  
  
_

“ _How do you suppose we do that? He’s hardly left alone, these days.”  
  
_

_Morgause looked to the side, considering, before a smile slowly crept across her face.  
  
_

“ _Bring me sir Kay._ _Of all the fresh knights, Arthur thinks of him like a little brother the most, and with everything going on, he and his knights won’t be able to leave. Arthur won’t ask him to, but the serving boy will go, himself, to retrieve him.”  
  
_

_Agravaine frowned. “But they’ll know I was last with him.”  
  
_

“ _Then make it look convincing. He did everything in his power to make sure Lord Agravaine got away. Last you saw he was still alive, and you’re dreadfully worried for such a young, but loyal, knight.”  
  
_

_Agravaine stood, bowing to her. “Yes, my lady.”_   
  


_She smiled, and placed the bracelet in Agravaine’s palm._


	28. Dancing with the lie of it (Try not to get tangled yourself)

Gwen sighed as she pulled a brush through her hair, looking at herself sadly in her mirror. She didn’t want to think about what Merlin had said about Lancelot, but it wouldn’t leave her mind. It haunted her, just a bit, that not only had Lancelot died, but now he was back.  
  


But he _wasn’t really_. Never mind that they all, desperately, wanted it to be true. Merlin had said Lancelot had forgotten about his magic, and there was no way Lancelot would ever do such a thing, terrible trials of dying and coming back to life were no match for the loyalty that she had seen Lancelot display for Merlin.  
  


It had been one of the things that had once made her fall in love with him, so long ago.  
  


It had been one of the many things to finally slot into it’s proper place when Merlin told her about his magic.  
  


She sighed again, but jumped at a knock at her door. Slowly, she placed the brush down and got up, walking over to the door and pulling it open.  
  


Lancelot was leaning against the frame, and began smiling at her when his eyes met hers. She felt herself stiffen, a little unsure about this, but tried to play it easy.  
  


“I wasn’t sure I’d find you here. I thought you might have rooms in the palace.” He said, pushing himself away from the door frame.  
  


Something was off. His smile was... _Wrong,_ somehow. Hard and cold, not at all like the gentle one he used to wear, and his eyes were...Empty, it seemed.  
  


Gwen swallowed. “I want to stay here as long as I can. It may not be much, but it's my home.”  
  


“May I come in?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.  
  


Gwen furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to explain to him just why that would be inappropriate when he opened his mouth again, seemingly in a rush to reassure her. “I only want to wish you well.”  
  


She forced a smile on to her lips, and opened the door as she nodded, watching as he moved into her home. He was almost _too_ graceful. Sure, he had been graceful in life, but this was... _Different,_ somehow. More like a shadow creeping across the floor as dawn set, than the confidence Lancelot had in his year as a knight.  
  


She pushed those thoughts out of her head as she shut the door and walked back into her home, maneuvering around him. They were _fairly_ sure that this wasn’t really _their_ Lancelot, but they weren’t positive. And, even if that did turn out to be the case, she didn’t want whoever did this finding out they had a clue.  
  


“I never thought I’d see you again.”  
  


Lancelot’s lips twitched, and something ugly squirmed in Gwen’s gut. She hated this. Hated the distrust she was feeling for such a good friend. “I know.”  
  


Gwen sighed, and shook her head. “When I heard what you'd done, I felt so guilty.”  
  


Lancelot’s own head shook, and there was a flash of something, in how he moved, in his eyes, as he spoke. “No.”  
  


It had seemed so much closer to the real Lancelot, but it was gone a moment later. She swallowed, and continued on. “You were protecting Arthur, just as I’d asked.”  
  


He nodded his head, but it wasn’t how Lancelot nodded his head.  
  


“If it weren’t for you, there’d be no wedding.”  
  


He looked away, down and to the side.  
  


“There are no words to thank you enough.”  
  


“There is no need for that. I did what I felt was right in my heart.” He started walking towards her, and she did everything in her power to keep still, to not back away. “You taught me that, Gwen, to be true to myself. You will make a wonderful queen.”  
  


She couldn’t help the smile, because _this_...Felt almost real, like the proper Lancelot. The gladness, though, was quickly smothered. Who could possibly replicate him so well?  
  


“Your love for your people is surpassed only by your love for Arthur.” He said, before he brought up a package, wrapped in white, between them and unfolded it. “The Madhavi people gave me this token of good fortune…” He revealed a beautiful bracelet. “For my journey.”  
  


He picked it up off his palm. “I’d like you to wear it, for I see their goodness in you.” And he took her wrist, carefully sliding it on. “It is a rare thing, and I was lucky to have been touched by it.”  
  


Gwen looked up from it, and smiled at him, but as soon as he began reaching for her face she got nervous.  
  


He kissed her forehead, and the relief coursed through her.  
  


“I wish you and Arthur everlasting happiness, Gwen.”  
  


Lancelot left, after that, and she immediately looked down at her wrist, grabbing the bracelet and ripping it off.  
  


She did not trust it for a second, and she wanted Merlin to have a look at it first.

* * *

She sat at the table within Igraine’s chambers, carefully watching Merlin and ignoring Arthur’s pacing, and the quiet conversation of Elyan and Gwaine. Percival and Leon were out running training drills, so it was just the five of them.  
  


Merlin was hunched over a glass bowl of shimmering, brilliant blue water. The bracelet was submerged in it, and glowing slightly, sending refractions of light scattering about the table, and the rest of the chambers.  
  


His spell book was at his side, and he was sliding his finger down the page he was currently on, the fifth one he’d turned to, and glancing between it and the bracelet, eyes narrowed.  
  


“There’s definitely an enchantment on it, though I can’t tell what.” Merlin sighed, shaking his head and leaning back, rubbing at his eyes. “It _could_ very well be some sort of...Good fortune charm place by the Madhavi people. Or it could be something else. I’m just not quite sure yet.”  
  


Gwen sighed, burying her head in her hands and shaking it. “I don’t want to believe it’s malicious, but something was _wrong_ when he visited me.”  
  


Merlin frowned, reaching over and rubbing a hand over her arm. “I know, Gwen. I know. I felt the same thing.” He took a deep breath. “Gaius and I have been doing some research, and we think we’ve got a plan to figure out exactly what’s going on.”  
  


“Oh?” She asked, leaning forward, though Merlin looked grim.  
  


“We think… We think it’s necromancy. We’re going to perform a test to see for sure.”  
  


The breath caught in Gwen’s throat, and the room seemed to freeze at those words. Arthur’s pacing coming to a stop, and Elyan and Gwaine’s conversation dropping like a stone in a lake.  
  


She tried to swallow around the lump, even as her eyes burned, and desperately hid her face in her hands, her shoulders tensing at the building sob in her throat.  
  


“Is there…” Arthur started, stopped, let the quiet last a few more seconds. “Is there any way to…” He trailed off again, refusing to ask the question they were all thinking.  
  


‘ _Is there a_ _ny way to save him, or would putting a stop to this kill Lancelot all over again? Could this even be called Lancelot anymore, or was it a horrid creature controlling his body?_ _Is_ _he in there, somewhere, screaming?’  
  
_

“I’ll find one. And if I can’t find one, I’ll _make_ one.” Merlin said, slamming his book closed and shoving it in his satchel.  
  


The chamber doors would’ve slammed behind him if Elyan hadn’t leapt up before Merlin had even stood, to be ready to catch it and carefully pull it closed.  
  


Arthur sighed, seeming to look past the chamber doors. He was obviously concerned.  
  


They all were. Merlin clearly hadn’t slept since they arrived home and found Lancelot was alive again.  
  


“I…“ Arthur started, sighing heavily. “Is this my fault? By telling him to do whatever he needs to?”  
  


Gwen jerked to look at him, mouth already half open, when Gwaine chucked a pillow at Arthur’s head. “Don’t be an idiot, princess. He would have done this either way, at least he knows he’s got your permission, and feels okay to talk with us about it.”  
  


Arthur gaped, for a moment, before he smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Gwaine.”  
  


Gwaine shrugged nonchalantly, but his face told a different story, with his soft smile and kind eyes. “Not a problem, Arthur.”  
  


Gwen smiled, and nodded to the knight.  
  


They’d _all_ be there for Merlin. No matter what.


	29. As the night settles we see the truth of it (Visions of death upon twisted life)

Merlin sighed as he leaned back from the spiral he’d just finished drawing, and then took a deep breath as he spread his hands over it.  
  


“Onluc þa soþan treow!”  
  


The paint glowed red, for a moment, and then faded from view. He let his breath go, before tensing at a sound. He scrambled up from the floor and peaked through a crack in his bed chambers door.  
  


Lancelot was inside, getting dressed, and Merlin ducked away over to Gaius, shaking him.  
  


Gaius opened his eyes, and Merlin held his finger to his lips. “It’s time.”  
  


Gaius nodded, and the two of them hid in the closet, waiting and watching.  
  


They didn’t have to wait _long_ for Lancelot to finish dressing, and soon he was exiting Merlin’s chambers, and crossing over the spiral.  
  


The spiral glowed, and Lancelot’s skin went transparent, his skeleton flashing into view.  
  


Merlin swallowed to avoid the sob that was building in his chest, until the Physician chambers door clicked closed behind the former knight.  
  


Tears were already spilling down his cheeks when Gaius and he exited the closet, and he frantically wiped at his eyes, sniffling.  
  


“I didn’t want it to be true.” He whispered.  
  


He heard Gaius sigh, and then the old man wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug and patting his back. “I know, we all wanted him back.”  
  


Merlin nodded as he pulled away, “More than anything.”  
  


“This man is a shadow of his former self, a shadow with ill intent.” Gaius said, giving Merlin’s shoulder one last pat before letting him pull away.  
  


Merlin swallowed. “He gave Gwen an enchanted bracelet. I couldn’t tell if it was malicious or not. He claimed it was for good fortune, from the Madhavi people. Now that we know he probably wasn’t telling the truth about them, I can probably narrow it down.”  
  


Gaius nodded, though his face was still grim. “Are you alright, Merlin?”  
  


Merlin pressed his lips together, was he _alright?_ No, of _course_ he wasn’t. His best friend had been brought back to life for some ulterior motive, to _hurt_ people both Merlin _and_ Lancelot cared about.  
  


“The next time I see Morgana…” He sighed, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. “She’s not escaping again.”  
  


Because who else? Who _else_ was capable of this?  
  


Where had that kind woman he had once known _gone_? How could she be so _cruel_ now?

* * *

Gwen blinked as Agravaine stumbled into the counsel room, bloodied and limping.  
  


“Uncle!” Arthur cried, rushing over to him and catching him. She could feel her shoulders tense.  
  


Was this an attack on Camelot, or was this some elaborate plot by Morgana and Agravaine?  
  


“Arthur,” Agravaine gasped, clutching at Arthur’s shoulder. “There was an attack, several men are dead.”  
  


Arthur froze, terror melting onto his face as he looked up and to them. Gwen swallowed, and pressed her lips together, casting a look to Merlin.  
  


He had a stormy expression on his face.  
  


Arthur turned back to Agravaine. “How many?”  
  


“Four, maybe five, I don’t know…” Agravaine said, breathing hard.  
  


“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Leon asked, striding forward with a chair, and helping Arthur to sit Agravaine down.  
  


“He was doing everything in his power, to make sure I could get away. Held them off even as the others fell. They were dragging him away, but last I saw, he was still alive…”  
  


Arthur’s worry only seemed to grow. “Who? Who was it?”  
  


“Sir Kay, my lord.”  
  


Arthur paled, and whipped his head up to look at Leon, despair and sorrow written all over his features.  
  


Gwen could see as he swallowed, his eyes shining with tears, and looked over to Merlin.  
  


His stormy expression had gone _thunderous…  
  
_

And the sky outside was darkening, lightning crackling ominously across the undersides of the dark grey clouds.  
  


There was a sound like a _scream_ , and chills ran down Gwen’s spine, her eyes widening just the same as everyone else in the room.  
  


Even Agravaine looked startled. _Actually_ startled, a far contrast from how he looked when he first entered the room.  
  


“What…” Gwen swallowed, licking her lips. “Was that?”  
  


Everyone who knew to, cast a quick glance at Merlin, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.  
  


Arthur straightened up. “Will someone escort my uncle to his chambers, and get Gaius to tend to him? Council members, you’re dismissed.”

* * *

Merlin paced the length of Igraine's chambers, pushing his fingers through his hair as he tried to focus his breathing.  
  


They’d came here as soon as possible, after the events of the last few minutes of the council session- Which had been mainly planning the wedding and coronation of Gwen -And now they were trying to figure out what to do.  
  


He could hear Arthur groan, and Leon talking with the other knights, desperate and fast, as they tried to figure out what they were going to do.  
  


Lancelot was a shade, and they didn’t know what he was here for, though it pretty clearly had _something_ to do with Gwen, if the bracelet was anything to go by.  
  


And, sir Kay had been taken. He might be dead, or…  
  


Or, he was alive, and being tortured for information regarding Camelot.  
  


No one could go get him, or the bodies of the fallen knights, because so much had to be done for the wedding, and most companies of knights were either sticking around the citadel for protection, or had ridden out to deliver news of the wedding to the outlying villages and lords.  
  


Merlin sighed, and let his head drop back. And, as he was staring up at the ceiling, he came to a decision.  
  


“I’ll go.”  
  


The room froze, and six heads snapped to look at him, much like they had when the scream had been heard.  
  


“Merlin…” Arthur tried, slowly standing from his seat, face creased. “You don’t… I mean, we can find some other-”  
  


Merlin cut his hand through the air, stopping Arthur mid-speech. “Arthur, as much as I appreciate working with you guys, now, instead of behind your backs,” He shrugged. “I still remember _how_ to work on my own. I can do this, I just need you to trust me.”  
  


Arthur looked at the others, his brow furrowed and frown deep.  
  


Gwen rolled her eyes, before turning to look at Merlin and giving him a soft smile, worry clear in her eyes, but support visible everywhere else on her face. “Of course we _trust_ you, Merlin, It’s just…”  
  


“We worry about you.” Gwaine finished, lips twisting into smile that said ‘ _Sorry, mate.’_ As he shrugged.  
  


Merlin sighed, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I get that, but I’m not the one who has been taken by bandits… And Kay doesn’t have the…” He coughed, ducking his head a bit. “Innate ability to protect himself without weapons… Or unbound hands.”  
  


Arthur was still frowning, but he nodded.  
  


“Alright, Merlin. We’ll keep our eyes on Lancelot while you’re gone… Just…” He sighed, and moved over to clap a hand to Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Just be safe?”  
  


“When am I ever _not_ , Arthur? Six years I’ve been here, haven’t died permanently just _yet_.” Merlin grinned, darting to the door and leaving the room.  
  


He could just barely hear Gwaine choking on his own air as Arthur near-shouted ‘ _What do you mean, **permanently?** **Mer** lin, what does that **mean** **?!?** **’**_

* * *

_Kay tried not to groan as he came to. The last he remembered was being dragged off by bandits, so the most likely situation he was in would be captured. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself.  
_

_He took note of himself, and the first thing he noticed was that his arms were over his head, and his wrists were burning, rope tight and chafing around them. Gauntlets gone, then.  
  
_

_The next was how light his body felt, no burden of chest plate and spaulders, and no shift of metal as he moved that indicated chainmail. He had been stripped down to just his tunic and pants, and shoes.  
  
_

_The thing he noticed after that was that his toes barely touched the ground. Just enough so that he could alleviate the strain on his arms, but not enough to get any real grounding to prepare himself for a fight.  
  
_

_He tried to control his breathing, but no amount of calming thoughts could stop him from gasping as a soft hand cupped his face.  
  
_

“ _I see that you’re finally awake.” A chilling, deceptively soft voice said, and he snapped his eyes open.  
  
_

“ _W-What…” He felt dumb, stuttering as he took in her appearance, took in **who she was**.  
  
_

_He swallowed, a task that was nearly impossible with his dry throat. “You’re supposed to be dead.”  
  
_

“ _Oh, darling,” Morgause grinned, her smile cold and harsh, her eyes alight with something that should’ve darkened them. “It’s not the first time. I was **supposed** to be dead when I was a year old. Clearly I wasn’t then, and clearly I’m not **now**.”  
  
_

“ _What do you want.” He snarled, trying to embody the air that the other knights always seemed to carry with ease. It… Wasn’t as easy for him.  
  
_

_Morgause smiled, and turned away, walking towards a metal bowl on a pedestal. He watched as she pulled a medallion out of somewhere, and held it over the flames of the bowl as she incanted a spell, before dropping the medallion into the flames.  
  
_

_There was a hiss, and Kay swallowed again as the flames disappeared, and a snake with several heads branching off the main body rose from the bowl.  
  
_

_He licked his lips, not that it did anything to help.  
  
_

_Morgause turned around, her smile somehow even darker.  
  
_

“ _I take it you’ve never met a fommoroh before.”  
  
_

“ _No,” he said, trying not to panic. “My father had, once, when he was young.”  
  
_

_He didn’t want to think about why Morgause had called one to the surface, with **him** bound and helpless.  
  
_

_Her smile grew, and her eyes seemed to become even brighter in her obvious excitement.  
  
_

“ _Well, well, well. That’s very interesting. Tell me, sir Kay,” She cupped his face again, and he tried not to pull away.  
  
_

“ _What are **your** thoughts on magic?”  
  
_

_His heart was pounding, and he closed his eyes. He was talking to the **enemy** , he shouldn’t be **saying** these things. But-  
  
_

_But something was exuding off of her that was tearing the words from his throat, and he could only assume it was a spell.  
  
_

“ _My adopted little sister has magic, and our parents died a few years ago during the water plague. She’s still alive.  
  
_

_Morgause frowned, her eyes softening as she pulled her hand away. “I’m…” She paused, and took a step away. “I’m sorry.”  
  
_

_He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Not that I think you’re the one who did it, but that’s what happens when you magic users decide to punish the entire kingdom for Uther’s law. You punish other magic users, as well. And you turn anyone who may have been receptive away, because all they would know is being hurt by magic for no reason.”  
  
_

_He took a breath, before blowing it out slowly, trying to calm himself. “I understand your anger, but lashing out at everyone only fueled Uther’s claims. People bought into his ravings because all they **saw** were magic users not just going after **him** , but going after **them**.”  
  
_

_Her frown turned hard, and she lifted her chin. “If your sister has magic, and you don’t intend to turn her over, then why did you become a knight?”  
  
_

“ _Because it was Arthur who knighted me when he became king. I’ve known him my entire life, He did for me what Leon did for him, and he’s **different**.”  
  
_

_He could see as the anger washed over Morgause, and she turned back towards the fommoroh. “I can only assume this means you **wont** help me get rid of him, then?”_

“ _Long live the king.” he snarled at her, forcing a grin of defiance on to his face.  
  
_

“ _A shame.” She muttered, picking up a dagger and slicing a head from the fommoroh. Another one immediately grew back in it’s place as she turned around and approached him.  
  
_

“ _You know about the fommoroh, you know what they can do. It will suck the life force out of you. Everything that makes you ‘ **Kay** ’ will be gone, and there will be just one thought. One thought that will grow until it’s consumed you completely. One thought that will be your life’s work. You will not be able to rest until it’s done. And that one thought is simple.” She said, her cruel smile back as she tilted her head. “You must kill the servant, Merlin.”  
  
_

_He tried to pull away, but she used her free hand to grab at his hair, twisting the locks in her grip as she placed the fommoroh at the base of the back of his neck.  
  
_

_He could feel it burrow into his skin as white hot pain exploded across his body, his vision blanking as his breath stuttered._  
  


_And then everything went dark._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you all to know I was very close to naming the chapter "As the (k)night settles we see the truth of it (visions of death upon twisted life)"
> 
> By the way, I have a little thing on my tumblr called "Rotten Thing Artbreeding". As the name suggests, I use artbreeder to make my OCs!!
> 
> [Here's sir Kay.](https://night-faye.tumblr.com/post/645433538067480576/sir-kay-from-and-its-a-rotten-thing-it-comes?is_related_post=1) There's links on his page to the other's I've posted so far, too!


	30. Things aren't as they seem (The darkness within you is the darkness within me)

“Are you sure that you have to do this alone? Surely there must be _someone_ you can take with you?”  
  


Merlin bit his tongue, but shook his head. “No, Gaius, there’s no one. Every one is busy, or someone I don’t trust enough. So, yes, I have to do this alone.”  
  


Gaius sighed, and placed another pot of medication in his physician’s bag. “Merlin, are you blaming yourself for this?”  
  


His gut twisted, and Merlin nearly broke the jar he was scooping herbal paste into, the stone pestle thunking against the table. He grabbed it, thanking the triple goddess under his breath that the paste was thick enough to not spill and be wasted.  
  


“What do you mean, Gaius?” He tried, swallowing thickly and focusing more intently on his task.  
  


“Lancelot, his dying, and his coming back as a shade. Sir Kay, and how you were the one who asked him to keep a close eye on Agravaine. Morgana, turning her back on the kingdom and doing all of this. Take your pick, son.”  
  


Merlin swallowed, and didn’t answer. He sort of hated how well Gaius knew him, but after six years he supposed it was inevitable.  
  


“I’m fine, Gaius.”  
  


“I’m sure you think that. Your standards for ‘ _Fine.’_ are abominably low. But what I _asked_ was if you were _blaming yourself_.”  
  


He pressed his lips together, and set aside the mortar and pestle for a lid for the small jar, twisting it on and tucking it into his satchel.  
  


It was already quite full of things he thought he would need. His book, a length of rope, a few herb mixtures- Both magical and non-magical-, and a few bandages, a needle, and silk thread. Just in case Kay was in need of medical assistance… If he was still alive.  
  


Gaius clicked his tongue, before sighing and reaching across the table, patting Merlin’s hand. “Just be careful, my boy.”  
  


“I always am, Gaius.” He said, finally looking up. Gaius’ face was decidedly _not_ amused.  
  


“Debatable.” He said, his lips twitching into a smile as he shouldered his physician’s bag and left.  
  


Merlin ducked back to his work, tucking the other prepared pots and vials of medicine, sighing.  
  


He looked up at the physician’s door opening again.  
  


“Did you forget something Gai- Oh. Hi, Leon.” He laughed, and Leon smiled, and gestured for him to come over.  
  


“Come on, if you’re insisting on going alone, I want you to take some things with you.”  
  


“Al...Right?” Merlin laughed, a little confused, and slung his satchel over his shoulder and following Leon.  
  


They ended up in the armory, and Merlin furrowed his brow in confusion.  
  


“First things first, _armor_.” Leon said, picking up a chainmail tunic.  
  


“Leon, I don’t think I really nee-”  
  


Leon shook his head, interrupting him. “I get you’re capable of protecting yourself, but I’d rather you be overly careful than dead, Alright?”  
  


Merlin smiled, and nodded as he took his satchel off and set it on one of the benches. “Thanks,” He told him, smiling as he took the tunic and slipped it on, feeling the metal links clink together as it shifted.  
  


“Next, a _weapon.  
  
_

“Leon, come on, now. You think I need a-”  
  


“What if you find Kay, but have to fight to get him out, hmm? You can’t just ‘ _Luck_ ’ your way out of it” Leon said, raising an eyebrow, and putting special inflection on ‘ _Luck’_ that made it feel like he was talking about Merlin’s magic.  
  


Merlin wrinkled his nose. “Fine, but don’t give me one of those ridiculous meat cleaver swords, I need to be able to run, I can’t be weighed down.”  
  


“Yeah, yeah.” Leon muttered, laughing as he rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the perfect thing.”  
  


He crossed the room, and took a beautiful crossbow from the wall. “It’s lightweight, carved from fifty year-old ash, and I can probably rig a sling for it so it’s easy to carry.”  
  


Merlin grinned, and took it from Leon’s hands, testing the weight himself.  
  


“Yeah… Yeah this’ll do. Thanks, Leon.”  
  


“Of course, Merlin.” Leon patted Merlin on the shoulder. “Be careful, though. Yeah?”  
  


He nodded, and picked his satchel back up as he handed the crossbow to Leon, who took it to a corner and started making a sling for it.

* * *

Merlin frowned as he came across the fallen knights. Their bodies had been stripped of armor, and their eyes were open wide. One of the knights (Sir Hector, he was sure of it) Seemed to have died slowly, bloodied hand clutching at bloodied throat.  
  


He sighed deeply, and slowly took his crossbow, quiver, and satchel off, carefully setting them on the ground. He turned to the small clearing just off the side of the road he was on, and hold his hand out, felt the warmth of his eyes bleeding to gold as the dirt moved, making neat graves.  
  


He rolled his shoulders, and walked over to the bodies, and gently picked up one of the knights, stumbling a little as he nearly over balanced. Silently cursing that whoever had done this hadn’t even left their capes or swords so that they could have a proper honor ceremony back home.  
  


Merlin carried the knight over to one of the graves, and gently lay him down in it. It was only three feet deep, just as the other graves were, but it was the best he could do on such short notice. He only hoped it would be enough to protect the bodies for the time being.  
  


He stood up, and glanced back to the other three bodies, biting his lip before shaking his head. “Come on, Merlin, they deserve at least this small labor.” He muttered to himself, before walking back over and picking up the next knight.  
  


His shoulders ached slightly, by the time he was done moving the bodies, and he cast another spell to move the dirt carefully over them, and then another one to move large boulders to spots slightly above the disturbed areas.  
  


Maybe they could bring a patrol here soon, and recover their bodies to give them a more honorable burial.  
  


He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. That was one thing found and dealt with, now he just had to find where ever Kay was.  
  


Biting his lip, Merlin hauled his satchel, quiver, and crossbow up, slinging both over his shoulder once again, and looked around. Agravaine hadn’t told them _which_ direction Kay had been taking, which was just another little thing that wriggled in his mind as suspicious.  
  


If he _truly cared_ about finding Kay again, wouldn’t he have done his best to remember _where he was being taken?  
  
_

Sighing heavily, Merlin adjusted his crossbow into a slightly more comfortable position and started walking. There were a few broken branches, a clear path of destruction through the forest on the opposite side of the road as the graves. And it seemed like fresh destruction, if the limp hanging snapped branches, and their bright green pith, were anything to go by.  
  


He edged down the steep decline, walking as carefully as possible, and was maybe halfway down when he heard sound of forest debris crunching underfoot. He looked around, trying to see where it was coming from.  
  


It stopped, far too suddenly for it to be a forest animal. He licked his lips nervously, and slowly pulled a bolt from the quiver and notched it in the crossbow, holding it ready and waiting to pull up to level and aim, though still low enough so that if he accidentally fired, the bolt would just bury itself in the ground.  
  


“Hello?” He called, his eyes darting as he slowly shifted, turning so as to see the whole forest, hating every moment his back was exposed.  
  


There was more crackling, but this time it was faster, like _running_. He fumbled the crossbow as he spun to face the sound coming from further up the hill behind him.  
  


His eyes widened, and he nearly choked in his rush to shout, dropping his crossbow as he stumbled back. “Wait-” The figure, who was was rushing down the hill, not wearing any of his armor, nor his cape, but his sword was raised high as he charged, didn’t stop. “Kay! Wait! It’s me, Merlin!”  
  


Kay didn’t stop, instead he leaped over the dropped crossbow, momentum carried by the decline, and took a swing at Merlin, the blade whistling through the air as Merlin ducked.  
  


He could feel his hair shift a little, and he stumbled back again, nearly tripping, trying to think of a spell that would knock Kay out without hurting him, and also _how to do it without revealing his magic_.  
  


“Ka-” He started, thought didn’t get very far, for Kay surged forward and grabbed his neckerchief, before digging his knee into Merlin's gut, sending them both to the ground. They tumbled down the hill, rolling over each other several times.  
  


Merlin was dizzy by the time they came to a stop, with him pressed to the ground and Kay above him, his sword raised high and poised to strike, a murderous expression on his face, and a jarringly haunted look in his eyes.  
  


Merlin shut his eyes, turning his head to the side, and tried to control his breathing. This was going to _hurt_ , but he’d had worse than a stab. He’d had a fireball blasted into his chest before, hell, he’d been stung by a _serket_ before, he’d _heal_. He always had.  
  


Still, he _liked_ this tunic, so it was a shame that it’d be rui-  
  


The sword _slammed_ down onto his chest _._


	31. Sit in this meadow of flowers (Yet still pulled towards something more)

The sun was bright, and the shadows cast by the few trees in the meadows were long. The breeze was gentle, and it rustled through his hair with a welcome coolness.  
  


He sighed as he stared up at the clouds that floated across the sky, the light of the sun warming his face as he listened to distant birds singing, and the soft shuffles of small fingers moving through the flowers, occasionally plucking one or two from the ground.  
  


Shutting his eyes, he adjusted, folding his hands over his chest and dozing. Though he dare not sever the mental link between him and his charge. He had learned that there was no such thing as being _too_ careful, no matter who you were or where you were.  
  


His charged sighed a little, and he felt gentle fingers place something on his head. So, he cracked an eye open and smiled up at the boy.  
  


“Did you just give me your flower crown?”  
  


His charge grinned, and nodded, making a soft smile pull at his lips.  
  


“Are you sure? You worked so hard on it, don’t you want to keep it?”  
  


“No. I worked hard on it _for you_.”  
  


“Well, thank you.” He said, lifting a hand and letting his eyes flash gold as he shaped the ancient words with his lips, more habit from trying to teach his charge than necessity, and cast a preserving spell on the flowers upon his head.  
  


He let it drop to his charge’s head, and ruffled his hair, before dropping it all the way back onto his chest and closing his eyes once more.  
  


~~ ‘ _Merlin!’  
  
_ ~~

He jolted up at the desperate shout within his mind, groaning as he clutched at his head, his breath becoming ragged as the sound echoed in his head.  
  


He took a stuttering breath, shaking his head, and blinking past the dizziness of such a distant, but powerful, mind-speak. It was coming from the direction of Camelot, and he slowly turned his head, squinting past the noon-day sun.  
  


It shouldn’t have been _possible_ to hear a voice _that_ far away.  
  


“Are you alright?” the voice of his charge to his side asked, and he blinked, looking over at the young boy.  
  


“Yes, I’m fine.”  
  


The boys eyebrows scrunched together, and his grey eyes shone as he tilted his head and the sun caught them just right, and he wrinkled his nose. He _clearly_ didn’t believe him, but… Well…  
  


Maybe he was right to not believe such a lie. Slowly, he turned his head back to the direction of Camelot, and he sighed, his fingers clenching at the insides of his cloak.  
  


“Are you really? Or are you just saying that?”  
  


He sighed, and turned once more back to his charge, his lips twisting with an amused smile. “You’re very wise for someone whose only seven summers old.”  
  


The boy smiled, bright and wide, and laughed. The air around them quickened, momentarily, and petals plucked away from the flowers and swirled, several of them landing unnaturally perfectly in the boys hair.  
  


He smiled, and plucked on of the petals out of the blonde locks, blowing it back into the wind and watching it as it made it’s way into the stream they were near.  
  


“How do you feel about starting to travel again?”  
  


His charge shrugged, and looked around. “Where would we go?”  
  


He smiled, and pointed in the direction that he could barely tear his eyes from. “To Camelot.”  
  


The boy frowned, clearly concerned. “Won’t they try and kill us? That’s what mother said, to never go to Camelot.”  
  


“That’s when Uther was king. He’s not, anymore. And the man who is king now is good.”  
  


“Are you sure?”  
  


He nodded. “Yes. He helped save me, once.”  
  


His charge hummed, and looked back down at the flowers surrounding them. “Okay… If you promise to keep me safe.”  
  


“I’ve already promised that.”  
  


“Promise me, again.”  
  


He smiled, and reached out to tuck an errant curl of blonde hair behind the boy’s ear. “I _promise_ , on my life and the blessings of the triple goddesses, that I’ll keep you safe. No. Matter. What.”  
  


The boy sighed, before meeting his eyes, a small smile on his lips. “Alright, then we can go. But we still have to look for my father.”  
  


He nodded, and stood, holding his hand out for the boy, squeezing it tight as soon as it was taken. “Of course we’ll still look for your father. I promised _that_ , too.”  
  


His charge smiled up at him, bright as the sun above them, and he squeezed his hand once more.  
  


They’d go together, and maybe, just maybe, they would finally find a home for him to stay in.  
  


Maybe, just maybe, he would stay as well.


	32. And we forgive past sins (For the virtues rise again)

_The sword **slammed** down onto his chest._

* * *

He coughed as the air was pushed from his lungs. There was a noise of metal grinding against metal, and a yell of frustration, and he was momentarily confused.  
  


Before he remembered that he was wearing chainmail.  
  


‘ _Thank you, Leon._ _I was wrong, you were right, and you’re getting your favorite dinner when I get back, hopefully tonight.’  
  
_

There was another shout from the knight, and he was sure that Kay was lining up for another strike, perhaps at a more vulnerable spot, before suddenly he was ripped from him, as if by magic. Merlin swallowed, and opened his eyes, and saw Kay laying a ways away from him.  
  


He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the knight was still breathing, and he pushed himself up. He didn’t _think_ he had used magic, but maybe it had protected him on it’s own, without him consciously doing it?  
  


“Merlin!”  
  


Merlin froze. It felt like a bucket of water that had been left out during a winters night had been dumped all over him, instantly chilling him to the bone. Quickly, he scrambled up from the ground, clutching a hand at his chest as he struggled to breathe.  
  


Still, he twisted around, eyes wide as they landed on a figure standing a few feet away, breathing hard, dressed in sturdy leather boots, black riding pants, and a deep red riding tunic...  
  


_Morgana.  
  
_

She looked… She looked _better_ then the last time he’d seen her. Her hair, most of it pulled into a ponytail, was clean and smooth again, though significantly shorter than it once had been, and her face was clean, though there were deep bags under her- Oddly haunted looking -Eyes.  
  


He shoved that aside. Quickly and violently.  
  


“What are you doing here, Morgana?” He snarled, taking a step back. Just because she looked like she had once, didn’t mean _anything_. And just because she had saved him didn’t mean anything, either. It could have been her plan for Kay to attack him, this could all be her doing.  
  


“Saving you, obviously!”  
  


“Yeah? And what did you do to Kay to get him to attack me?”  
  


Morgana visibly swallowed, and a heartbroken look flashed across her face before she schooled it into a her familiar understanding look. “I know you have no reason to trust me, Merlin, I _know_ I’ve destroyed that, but please…” She sighed, and took a step forward.  
  


He took another step back, and she froze, biting her lip, before walking back herself.  
  


“Morgause is still alive, she lied to all of us about her death… She lied to _me_ about _so much more_. And she’s the one who is behind this.”  
  


“Why should I believe you?”  
  


She looked away, and her fingers grabbed at the hem of her red riding tunic.  
  


He watched her carefully, itching to bend down and once again grab his crossbow. Itching to just drag her into a hug and _cry_.  
  


He watched her, not knowing _how_ he felt about seeing her again. He’d told Gaius he wouldn’t let her escape again, but here she was, looking _tired_ but not _crazy_ , and reaching a hand out, asking him to trust her.  
  


_Memories, unbidden, of a night with Morgana clinging to him, begging him to help her, because she was terrified, because she had magic, rose to the surface of his mind.  
  
_

“Because,” She started, looking up and meeting his eyes. “Freya told me to tell you that she loves you more than the mountains, lake, and wildflowers of her home, and she misses you dearly. And she needs you to come to the lake you laid her to rest in, because she needs to speak to you.”  
  


Merlin grit his teeth, his heart thundering in his chest, disturbing his already aching sternum. This… This had to be a lie.  
  


But it _couldn’t_ be. No one knew about Freya. And certainly not _that much.  
  
_

“Merlin, _please_. Kill me, if you like. I know I betrayed you all, and I deserve no less, but please go see her, she was _very_ clear that it was important.”  
  


“Why?” He asked, trying not to let the desperation slip into his voice. Or the deep sadness he suddenly felt at hearing such _guilt_ and bone deep _weariness_ soaking Morgana’s words. Tried to ignore the echoing ‘ _Kill me, if you like...I deserve no less.’  
  
_

Morgana shrugged, the guilt of her voice showing on her face, as if being unable to tell him _why_ Freya wanted to see him was the straw that broke the horses back. “I don’t know. She only told me it’s about someone you care about.”  
  


Merlin swallowed, and tried to take a deep, steady breath, but could only manage a painful gasp. His vision was starting to fade from the pain in his chest, and it was getting harder to breathe.  
  


A metallic taste started to coat his mouth, and something hot was spilling over his lips.  
  


“Merlin!” He heard Morgana shout, just as everything went black.  
  


His last thought was wondering why it didn’t hurt when he fell.

* * *

Morgana carefully lay Merlin down in the clearing she had brought him to, her hand carefully cradling his head and slowly slipping out from under it.  
  


She held her hands out over her body, letting ancient words spill from her lips as the familiar warmth of golden eyes filled her veins, wispy colors spinning into existence and floating above Merlin’s body.  
  


A hiss slipped past her lips at the scarlet red over his chest, muddling the gold of the rest of it. And she didn’t like the blue that was beginning to tinge his lips, both on his aura and his actual body.  
  


She swallowed, and let the diagnostic spell drop, her fingers now hovering above his chainmail. It was good quality, and she recognized the technique, making her feel even worse as she ran a finger from the neckline to the hemline, the links snapping apart.  
  


“Sorry, Tom.” She whispered, shutting her eyes for a moment, before she opened them and used a gentler cutting spell on Merlin’s tunic.  
  


She tried not to cringe at the ugly blues and purples that were mottling Merlin’s chest, after she had pushed away the chainmail and fabric. But it was extremely hard not to.  
  


For one, the bruise was layered over a large, ugly looking burn scar in the shape of a near perfect circle.  
  


And two, her fingers pressing as gently as she dared, she was rather sure at least one rib had snapped and punctured his lung.  
  


“Alright,” she breathed, shutting her eyes again. “Focus, Morgana. She may have been manipulating you like a squire with a carrot leads a horse, but you still learned things from Morgause, so, _use that.”  
  
_

Morgana took a deep breath, and held her hand over Merlin’s injury. “Ic ascian þes bánbryce æt remian, Ic ascian þes bealubenn æt gehælan.” She chanted.  
  


She repeated it until the bruise had nearly completely faded, now just yellows and greens and slight browns. Still ugly, but not so dangerous. And Merlin’s breathing had evened out.  
  


She glanced over at Kay, and sighed, standing up and brushing the forest debris off of her pants before walking over to him.  
  


Grunting, Morgana looped her arms under his, and dragged him over to a tree, carefully propping him up before looking around.  
  


Merlin’s satchel had, at some point, been opened and a few contents had spilled out, including a length of rope.  
  


Morgana darted over to it and grabbed it, before returning to Kay. Who, luckily for all of them, was still asleep.  
  


“Sorry about this.” She muttered as she tied him to the tree, triple checking the ropes and the knots she had tied and secured with magic. They were tight, but not quite tight enough to cause any real pain.  
  


She hoped.  
  


Morgana shook her head, and sat back down next to Merlin, waiting for him to wake.  
  


She steadfastly ignored the bloodied bodies that sprawled across the ground around them, dead or dying, blood, impossibly, pooling around her.  
  


Morgause’s humming as she weaved around through the gore was a little harder to ignore, a bloodied sword in her hand that she dragged behind her, the familiar by now bloody crown hanging from the fingertips of her other hand.


	33. And we forgive past transgressions (Wild animals backed into corners no longer)

Merlin groaned as he woke up, and then paused, holding his breath a moment before slowly blowing it out and sucking in another one.  
  


It was remarkably easier to breathe, and his sternum was no longer throbbing. He took another steadying breath, and gently pushed himself up into a sitting position, one hand against the ground and the other pressed against his bare chest. Right over where he could have sworn there should have been a deep ache, his fingers raised slightly on the scarred edges where the fireball had hit so many years ago.  
  


The rim of a water flask was pressed to his dry lips, and he opened his eyes to see Morgana absentmindedly holding it out behind her, her other hand stirring the contents of a pot.  
  


Merlin wrapped his hands around the flask, and stared down into it for a moment, only for his thought process to be interrupted by her speaking up.  
  


“It’s not poisoned.”  
  


He flushed, and his neck burned, at Morgana’s words. An old, wounded, neglected guilt roiling in his gut as he brought the water flask back to his mouth and took a sip. There was a flash of metallic taste, and he grimaced as he spat it out.  
  


Morgana sighed. “Don’t worry about it. There’s water nearby, so use as much as you need to rinse your mouth.”  
  


Merlin nodded, not that Morgana could see, and took a smaller sip, swishing it around his mouth to clear all the traces of blood.  
  


“How’s your chest?” Morgana finally turned to him, her concern full blown across her face, and he frowned, biting his lip as he tried not to pay attention to her red rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks.  
  


“Feels normal.” He muttered, trying to avoid bringing a hand back to it.  
  


“That’s good.” She said, nodding, though it seemed more to herself. She picked up his tunic and handed it to him, grimacing. “I had to cut it open, and I’m not too good at the mending spell yet.”  
  


He took it, and looked at the front of it. It definitely _looked_ like it had stitched itself together again, and he sighed. “I can probably make it look better when we get back.” He said, slipping it on.  
  


Morgana nodded, and picked up a bowl, filling it with what was now obviously porridge, and handed it out to him. “Something hot and solid should help with that taste of blood, too.”  
  


Merlin set the water flask down, leaning it against his thigh so it wouldn’t spill, and took the bowl.  
  


It smelled… Really good.  
  


“This smells like how Gaius makes it…”  
  


Morgana’s lips twitched. “Doesn’t have any apples, Pierrick ate them all.” She said, gesturing over towards the edge of the clearing she had, apparently, taken them too. A red horse, with a white speckled behind and white legs that stopped halfway up on it’s left foreleg and right hind-leg, was tied to a tree, and had it’s head dipped low, chewing at a small patch of grass, a half eaten apple right by it’s snout.  
  


He sighed, and slowly took a bite of the porridge – _It was delicious-_ , before looking around the clearing.  
  


He spotted Kay a little ways off, tied to a tree in, arguably, the most comfortable way possible, while still being secure. He was still unconscious, and that worried Merlin a bit.  
  


“He woke up for a minute, and somehow escaped. Immediately tried to choke you while my back was turned. I had to cast a sleeping spell on him, but I can feel… _Something_ pushing at it, fighting against it.” Morgana explained, looking somehow even _guiltier_. It was like a baseline for her emotions, right now. Guilt, and tiredness, and grief.  
  


Merlin swallowed. He… Wasn’t sure how that made him feel. It’s all the things that she’s made him feel, but it had always seemed… Wrong, like it wasn’t all _her_. Like there was a darkness corrupting her soul.  
  


It had felt… Well, like a subtler form of how Lancelot felt now. The _offness_ of it all unsettling him. Then and now.  
  


He’d spent so long thinking it was fear, and he was sure that was still a part of it, but now… Well, now it seemed Morgause was behind some of it in a more direct way than he previously thought.  
  


He’d wondered where the kind, gentle, compassionate Morgana had gone, and now-  
  


Well, it seemed she was right in front of him, within _reaching distance._ It seemed all he would have to do would be reach out his hand.  
  


It was hard to admit, even to himself, that he was scared of being burned again. Physical wounds he could take, no matter how painful, but the wounds to his heart never seemed to heal right.  
  


“Why were you here?” He asked, meeting her eyes again.  
  


She frowned, pressing her lips together, before sighing.  
  


“I was going to Camelot… I needed…” She took a deep breath, and blinked back tears. “I needed to talk to Arthur about some things… Things I learned that he needs to know. And… I was having visions, as well.”  
  


He swallowed, and tried to keep his guard up. Reminding himself this could all be an elaborate ploy. But he _desperately_ wanted all of this to be true.  
  


‘ _Do you think...Do you think there’s any way to...To bring her home?’  
  
_

Arthur’s words, small and quiet, from the night Lancelot had died, after Merlin had told him of his magic.  
  


He hadn’t known the answer back then. Had only said ‘ _We can try.’_ But hadn’t known if it would have been possible.  
  


Now, though…  
  


Maybe it was.  
  


Morgana fiddled with her tunic, and met his eyes. “And then, I had… I had a nightmare… A vision, maybe. But I don’t know _how_ what I saw could be…” She shook her head. “And I was having a hard time, and the brewing storm wasn’t helping, and Pierrick-”  
  


“Wait-” Merlin said, straightening his back as he narrowed his eyes. “This morning?”  
  


She looked confused, but nodded. “Yes. I woke up-”  
  


“Screaming.”  
  


Morgana furrowed her eyebrows. “Yes… how did you…?”  
  


“We heard it. Up at the castle.”  
  


She paled, and her eyes widened as she drew back a little, her hand flying to her neck. He swallowed, and reached for it, slowly pulling it away and resting his other fingers against it.  
  


“Does it hurt?”  
  


“Only a little” She said quietly, shrugging. “It hurt more when I first woke up, but it’s faded, now.”  
  


Merlin nodded, and pulled away. “Alright…” He said. He wasn’t sure if he was really fine with it, which was a little weird. He had spent so long feeling betrayed by Morgana, and honestly he had started to stop caring if she got hurt or not… He had started _hoping_ for it.  
  


But now, seeing how _wrecked_ she looked, he didn’t know _how_ he felt anymore.  
  


She sighed. “But, after I woke up, Pierrick starts nudging me. Finally, I just climbed up onto him, and he led the way to Freya.”  
  


He sighed, and pushed himself up, then held out his hand for her. “Speaking of, we should get to her, come on.”  
  


She looked hesitant, but nodded, and took his hand in hers and squeezed it tight. It felt like something had just _clicked_ in to place. He pulled her up, and found his eyebrows furrowing as her expression flickered into brief terror as she looked down, before she took a deep breath and muttered something he couldn’t hear.  
  


Morgana looked up, and swallowed. “What should we do about Kay?”  
  


Merlin grimaced, and looked over at the knight, before shrugging. “The sleeping spell you cast on him, how long should he be out?”  
  


“It was a strong one, and normally I would say at least a day, but whatever is inside of him and pushing against it is _strong_. It almost feels like it’s devouring the magic I poured into the spell.”  
  


“Oh.” Merlin sucked air through his teeth, his eyes widening slightly. “Hm. Is there… Anything you can do to…?”  
  


Morgana tilted her head, a considering look crossing her features. “Perhaps…” She sighed, and shook her head. “We’d have to untie him, because he needs to be laying flat.”  
  


Merlin nodded. “Alright. We’ll do that.”  
  


“Merlin,” She said, grabbing his shoulder with her hand to stop him from moving over to Kay. “Even with your magic, I don’t know if you could hold him down if he were to wake.”  
  


Merlin could feel himself pale, and his eyes widened again as he whipped his head around to look at Morgana. “You… You know about my magic?”  
  


Her eyes widened, as well. And then she cursed and slammed her palm to her forehead. “I forgot, I completely _forgot_. I’m so sorry Merlin.” She grimaced as she lowered her palm. “That was something I needed to tell Arthur. Agravaine is a traitor, and he saw you heal Uther, before Morgause and he used poison to finish the job.”  
  


Merlin swallowed, but nodded. “Alright… We, uh- We knew that he’s a traitor, we _didn’t_ know he knew about my magic.”  
  


“You did?”  
  


Merlin shrugged. “He’s about as obvious as a galloping horse on stone.” Merlin grimaced, then. “I… Morgana, I’m _sorry._ I… You came to me all those years ago, _begging_ for me to help you, and I-”  
  


Morgana shoved her hand over his mouth, effectively cutting him off.  
  


“And you kept yourself safe. While still trying to help me… I know it ended badly, Merlin, but you _risked everything_ to get me to the druids back then… I can’t hold you protecting yourself against you. It shouldn’t be something you feel you have to apologize for.”  
  


Merlin’s laugh was a little wet, and oh did he _miss_ this, being able to laugh with Morgana. The jokes were, for sure, different, but the underlying understanding of each other was _there,_ again. Like a shroud had been lifted.  
  


Morgana snorted, though tried to use her hand to smother it, and for the first time since he laid eyes on her again, her eyes brightened a little.  
  


She sighed, then, and sobered. “I’m… I need to tell Arthur that I’m sorry about Uther. I hated the man, goddesses did I _hate_ him. But…” She sighed, and looked away. “He was Arthur’s father… And mine, technically… And he did raise me after my _true_ father died… It’s-” She huffed, and shook her head. “I _hate him._ And I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but feel _guilty_ for it, because… Because I realize he _did_ , in his own messed up way, _love me._ I know that, because I used it against him.”  
  


Merlin frowned, and reached down to squeeze her hand again.  
  


“I barely knew my father…” He whispered, looking away. He could feel Morgana’s eyes on him, and he sighed and shut his eyes. “His name was Balinor… And he was Camelot’s dragon lord.”  
  


“Too close to magic…” Morgana breathed, and he opened his eyes and turned back to her, nodding. “Oh, Merlin…” She reached out, and hooked her arm around his neck, pulling him into a hug.  
  


“He was chased out of Camelot, and my mother housed him… They fell in love… He didn’t even know she was pregnant when Camelot knights started approaching the village and he had to leave.”  
  


“But-” She pulled away, horror on her face. “But you lived in Ealdor.”  
  


He nodded, and there was a thunderous flash of anger across her features. “Uther chased your father over the border? He felt perfectly fine going to Ealdor for his _stupid purge,_ but refused to send people to help when your mother _begged for it!?”  
  
_

Merlin looked away again, but nodded. Incidentally, he had looked right over to the fire, which was now leaping so high over the porridge pot, and was so hot, that the porridge was starting to burn.  
  


“Well, I feel a little less guilty for hating him, then.”  
  


He snorted, and turned back, and it felt so _good_ to be able to talk about this. He’d told Arthur about Balinor, before they went in search of Aithusa, but he hadn’t felt comfortable continuing the conversation with him, because with Arthur there was so much _guilt_ that the now-king felt over it all.  
  


“You said you _barely_ knew him..” Morgana said, after a long period of silence, and he sighed.  
  


“After you were taken by Morgause,-” He didn’t miss her wince at the other woman’s name, and marked that off on the list of little things that he needed to see to believe that Morgana really _was_ coming back to them “-I… May have freed the great dragon under the castle?”  
  


Morgana’s eyebrows surged up to her hair line and he waved his hands, desperate to explain.  
  


“I swore I would, I had stalled all I could, but there was the knights, and the sleeping sickness, and-” He sighed, cutting himself off, before swallowing. “I was out of options. The only way to get him to tell me what I needed to do was to say I would free him, but he didn’t believe me because every time I said that, I stalled. I had to swear on my mother’s life that I would…”  
  


“And he told you…” She said, her eyes widening slightly. “To poison me.”  
  


He winced, but nodded. “He told me to _kill you_. I went with something that was reversible, if acted on in time.”  
  


Morgana sighed, and looked away. “Well, then.”  
  


Merlin bit his lip and shrugged. “Well, after that, he… He started attacking Camelot.  
  


“And Uther thought, ‘ _Hey, two problems in one. Arthur, go find the dragon lord and bring him back. Then I can use him to lock up or kill the dragon,_ _ **and**_ _kill_ _ **him**_ _, too.’_ Am I right?”  
  


Merlin snorted. “Uh, yeah. Pretty much.”  
  


Morgana rolled her eyes. “Of _course_. So…?”  
  


“We went to go find him, but Gaius stopped me before we left and told me that he was my father… I was… Pretty mad that he and my mother had kept such a big secret from me.”  
  


Morgana looked down at her hands, and he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking when she said “I can understand that.”  
  


Merlin frowned, but continued, “We… _I..._ Managed to convince him to come to Camelot. Or, rather… I was mad that he wasn’t the man I thought, at first. But I said something, I mentioned Gaius… He had helped smuggle my father out of Camelot, the first time…” He shrugged.  
  


“When he joined us… I figured I would smuggle him out, that time, somehow. That I would get him to Ealdor, to be with my mother again at last. I told myself that him being at risk was all to save the innocent civilians. That… The danger was worth it.” He sighed, and curled his fingers into a fist to try and control his shaking hands. “Cenred’s men, they attacked us… He saved my life.”  
  


Morgana’s eyes softened, and she reached over to grab one of his hands. “He...Died?”  
  


Merlin nodded. “And his powers as dragon lord passed to me.”  
  


“Oh, _Merlin._ ”  
  


He shrugged, and used his free hand to wipe at his eyes. “Can we… Can we stop talking about this? For now, at least?”  
  


Morgana nodded, and pulled him by his hand into another hug, which he gratefully returned. He hadn’t known that he had missed Morgana’s hugs, so much.  
  


“Of course, Merlin.”  
  


He pulled away, and nodded to her. “Okay, let’s try and help Kay.”  
  


Morgana nodded, and they went over to the knight, Morgana carefully undoing whatever spells she had cast on the rope to secure the knots.


	34. And we begin to make amends (Spill ink over the ugly bits of our history)

Morgana sighed as she held her hands over Kay’s body, letting her magic flow through his body, mending the fractures in his bones, and the wounds that littered his body.  
  


There was a secondary purpose to her spell, to root out whatever had driven him to attack Merlin, and she felt something, presumably the creature, screech and _bite_ at her magic.  
  


She yelped, and drew back, gasping as a metallic taste coated her mouth, and, what she could only assume was blood, dribbled over her lip and down her chin.  
  


“Morgana?” Merlin asked, a sudden flash of concern that she hadn’t realized she had _missed_ so _much_ crossing his face, hands hovering at her side.  
  


She nodded, wiping at her blood, before spitting the rest out to the side. “I’m fine. The creature hiding away in him… It took a bite of my magic.”  
  


“Wait, like, your active magic, not just the remnants in the sleeping enchantment? There’s things that can do that?” He asked, his eyebrows scrunching together as he looked at Kay. She swallowed, and nodded again, reaching her hands out over Kay’s body again.  
  


“Yes, a few… And there are two that actively infest a host and remain there. And only one that can control someone, change their personality…” She sighed, and licked her lips. “A fommoroh.”  
  


Merlin looked back up at her, obviously confused, and she tried to quell the burn of guilt in the depths of her heart.  
  


“It’ll eat away at his life force unless we can kill the mother beast. We can remove it for now, but it’ll come back in the morning.”  
  


“Well,” Merlin swallowed, and brushed a lock of Kay’s curly brown hair out of his face. “Removing it, that will stop his life force from being consumed for the moment, right?”  
  


Morgana nodded, and Merlin pressed his lips together. “Okay, let’s do that, then.”  
  


“Alright, help me turn him over. It’ll have been placed at the base of his neck."  
  


Merlin grabbed Kay’s shoulders, carefully turning him so that his face rested against Merlin’s thigh, and not in the dirt. Morgana shuffled around, and drew the knight’s tunic back, hissing slightly at the dying flesh around the entry point.  
  


She took a deep breath, and placed her hand over it, muttering slowly to make sure she enunciated each word correctly. She couldn’t afford to mess this up.  
  


“Acennan þes untýdre, aheordan þes mann.”  
  


The flesh split open, and a writhing creature fell from it, screeching upon the forest floor. She grimaced and grabbed it in her hand. “Forbearnan.”  
  


There was a flash of fire in her hand, flickering flames escaping from between her fingers, and the creature, now ash, fell through her fingers to the forest floor. She turned her attention back to the wound.  
  


It had closed, already, but still looked quite ugly.  
  


“Do you know of any healing spells to help?” She asked.  
  


Merlin shook his head, but he had dragged his satchel over and was digging through it. “I have something that should prevent infection, though. Will we need to find one, or-?”  
  


“It should fade once we destroy the mother beast. There’s a chance it will leave a scar, but sources on that are iffy at best.”  
  


Merlin nodded, and pulled out a jar of a green paste, opening it and rubbing the paste on the wound as carefully as he could.  
  


Morgana sat back, watching him quietly. She didn’t know what to do, or say, so she opted for nothing. It was… It was the best she could do at the moment.  
  


She focused on Kay, and tried to ignore the fingers on her shoulders, slender and pale, as a mouth pressed against her ear.  
  


‘ _Morgana… Come back to me, Morgana.’  
  
_

She swallowed, and jerked her shoulders, watching out of the corner of her eye as the fingers shifted, becoming more wispy for a moment, before solidifying again and digging in to her skin. She bit her lip, and dragged her eyes back to watching as Merlin applied another paste to the wound, before he wrapped bandages around Kay’s neck.  
  


Merlin tied off the bandage, and leaned back to look up at her. “Okay, you can lift the enchantment, now.”  
  


Morgana nodded, and helped Merlin turn Kay back over, before she placed her palm against his forehead.  
  


“Aweccan.”  
  


Kay’s face scrunched, and he groaned quietly before they fluttered open.  
  


Merlin had already bent his head over Kay’s, so that his face would be the first that the knight saw, and clasped his hands on each side of Kay’s face.

“Are you with me, now?”  
  


Kay’s eyes widened, slightly, and Morgana stood and stepped back. She walked over to Pierrick, eager to give them space. Though she couldn’t hear what they were talking about when she was so far away.  
  


A few minutes later, though, Kay’s voice raised and caught her attention.  
  


“Thank you, lady Morgana.”  
  


She froze, her fingers tightening in Pierrick’s mane before she carefully released it and turned around. She was sure her eyes were wide as she looked at Kay.  
  


“Uhm… I… Of course.”  
  


Merlin, for the first time, _grinned_ at her, his shoulders loose and his eyes bright. And pushed himself to his feet, before helping Kay to stand.  
  


“Come on, we should get to the lake.” He said, before turning to Kay. “You alright to get to Camelot on your own?”  
  


Kay nodded, his hand drifting to the back of his neck. “Yes.”  
  


“And you know to get there before tomorrow? You can handle that? Because if not you should stay with us, and we can-”  
  


“Merlin! Really,” Kay laughed, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll go directly to Gaius and tell him everything you said to tell him.”  
  


Merlin nodded, “And remember, don’t-”  
  


“Bring up lady Morgana. I know.”  
  


Merlin laughed, and nodded again. “Right, of course. Be careful.”  
  


Kay tilted his head, a mischievous smile on his face. “Are _you_ really in any position to tell _me_ that?”  
  


Merlin leaned away, his grin still there, and faux hurt in his voice. “Uh, excuse you. Just because you’re a knight, now-”  
  


Kay rolled his eyes, laughing. “I’ll be careful, Merlin. You, too.”  
  


Merlin nodded, still laughing a little. “’Course I will be.”

* * *

Merlin sighed as he finished packing his satchel, looking over to Morgana. She was busy attaching his crossbow and quiver to Pierrick’s saddle, securing it so that it could still be used while riding.  
  


It was… Odd. She was strangely jumpy. One minute she was fine, the next her eyes would flick to somewhere and she’d startle, or her eyes would widen a fraction, or she’d grip at the bottom of her tunic and bite her lip.  
  


Like she was seeing things he couldn’t. It concerned him, but he didn’t quite know how to bring it up. She hadn’t wanted to talk about her vision, and maybe this was related? Or, if it wasn’t, maybe she still didn’t want to talk about it.  
  


It was complicated, and he didn’t know how to approach it.  
  


“Alright,” She huffed, taking a step away from Pierrick and settling her hands on her hips. “I think we’re good to go.”  
  


Merlin swallowed, and nodded, standing up and pulling the strap of his satchel over his head, settling it across his chest. His fingers stayed there, a moment, as he comprehended how _well_ she had healed him.  
  


He shook his head, and went over to the horse, giving his nose a quick scratch. “The chainmail?” He asked, looking up to Morgana.  
  


She patted one of the saddle bags. “Safely packed.”  
  


Merlin nodded again, and hauled himself up, taking the reins when Morgana had handed them to him and waiting for her to clamber up herself.  
  


She had insisted that he be in front, because she didn’t actually _know_ how to get where they were going.  
  


‘ _Pierrick took me there, last time, and he was going too fast for me to get a good sense of the path.’_ She had said.  
  


She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he turned to look over his shoulder and smile at her, but found her burying her head against his back, face turned downwards.  
  


He frowned, and furrowed his brow in confusion, but turned his head back and snapped the reins.  
  


“Alright, Pierrick, let’s go to Freya.”


	35. And to the sun we ask (Won't you give us a better tomorrow)

Merlin pulled the reins taught as they broke the treeline. The sun was just starting to set, and it was making the surface of Avalon glimmer and shine. He took a deep breath, and dismounted, before holding his hand out for Morgana.  
  


She took it, and settled her foot in the stirrup, using it and his hold to lower herself down to the ground.  
  


She, herself, seemed to take a deep breath, as if being near such a magical place made it easier to breathe. He certainly could understand that. It’s how it felt for him.  
  


“Morgana…” He said, waiting for her to turn around. Confusion was clear on her face, and he sighed. “Before I talk to Freya, I need to ask you something.”  
  


“What is it?”  
  


“Your vision from this morning, the one that made you scream… What was it?”  
  


She seemed to grow more confused, but also _sad_.  
  


“I’m not entirely sure,” She admitted, shrugging. “But I think Morgause is going to bring… Or _has_ brought, Lancelot back, somehow… There was this bracelet, and I think it enchanted Gwen? And they were both… Both-”  
  


Tears were starting to flow from her eyes, and Merlin’s chest twisted painfully. It was clearly causing her pain to recall it.  
  


He sighed, and reached out to grab at her elbows, tugging them until she collapsed against him and he was able to wrap his arms around her, pressing his cheek against the top of her head.  
  


“It’s alright, Morgana. It’s alright. We’ll figure this all out.” He whispered, rubbing her back. “We’ve handled Kay for the time being, and the others and I already figured out Lancelot is a shade, and Gwen’s not wearing the bracelet, so don’t worry on those fronts, alright?”  
  


She nodded against his chest, before pulling back and wiping at her eyes. ”I’m sorry, I’ve just been so on edge… It’s just that I… Among other things, I learned that Morgause was using magic to pull my darker thoughts to the surface, so that I would act on them, and I… I don’t know what to do with myself.”  
  


Merlin paled, and his eyes widened.  
  


Because oh.  
  


_Oh.  
  
_

So Morgause _was_ responsible for Morgana’s downfall more than he first thought. He swallowed, trying to breathe around this news.  
  


“She was _what_?”  
  


Morgana flushed, and she looked away, refusing to meet his eyes, refusing to even _look_ at him. “I don’t want to… To act as if I wasn’t at fault. I _was_. They were still my actions, it doesn’t matter that I… I don’t _think_ I would’ve acted on them on my own, but…” She trailed off, and swallowed thickly as she looked down at her trembling hands. “On the triple goddess, Merlin, the moment I woke up, in a space that was warded against her magic, I just felt so… I was _sick_ with guilt, I couldn’t sleep because I kept hearing the cries of all the people I’ve hurt…Or seeing visions, or having nightmares of other events in my life.”  
  


She finally looked up at Merlin. “Merlin… I know my hands are physically clean, but to me, they’re _dripping_ with blood, just like the crown I see Morgause holding over my head in my visions.”  
  


For some reason, her eyes slid past his face to look over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but look behind himself, only to see nothing.  
  


Just like all the other times she would seem to startle at nothing.  
  


Something _horrifying_ occurred to him, and he turned back to her, cupping her face in his hands and gently forcing her to look at him.  
  


“Morgana… Are you having visions while _awake?_ ”  
  


She choked on a sob, and shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t _know_. I can’t… It’s gotten to the point where I don’t know if they’re visions, or a product of me going insane, or… or some form of waking _nightmare_. The only thing that’s helping is this.” She pulled a blue crystal, in a caged of knotted string, up out of her tunic. It gave off a very faint glow, and it seemed to be fluctuating in terms of brightness.  
  


“It helped more, before. But the further I get from Elaine, the more power is being sapped, and the less it helps.”  
  


“Oh, _Morgana.”  
  
_

He didn’t know who this _Elaine_ , was, but clearly Morgana trusted her. That was enough for now. He sighed and brushed a loose lock of her hair back behind her ear. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”  
  


She nodded, and took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes. “You… You better go talk to Freya.”  
  


Merlin slowly pulled away, frowning, but nodded back all the same.  
  


He turned to the lake and took a deep breath, before approaching it and crouching down at the edge.  
  


He reached out and dipped his fingers into the water. “Freya,” He called, leaning forward a little more. “I’m here.”  
  


The water rippled, and there was a swirl of blues and purples and greens.  
  


And there, right below the surface of the water, her hair flowing behind her, was Freya.  
  


His heart skipped a beat as her hand reached for his, and he broke the surface of the water, grabbing it tight.  
  


She pulled herself through the water, and like magic she seemed to dry as she sat on the shore next to him, her feet still in the water.  
  


He couldn’t _breathe_. Because here she was, next to him, her hand in his.  
  


She smiled at him, her dark eyes so beautiful and _so alive,_ despite the ripples of colors floating around in the brown of them, so like the magic of the lake _.  
  
_

“Freya…”  
  


Her smile grew, and she laughed, reaching out with the hand that wasn’t held in his and cupping his cheek. “Hello, Merlin. I’ve missed you.”  
  


He couldn’t help his breathless laugh, and rested his forehead against hers, the tip of his nose sliding again hers. “I’ve missed you, too, Freya. _So much.”  
  
_

She hummed, and adjusted her head, closing her eyes as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve watched you, Merlin. I could scry from down there, so I’ve kept an eye...Merlin, I’m so happy for you, you’ve done _so_ much.” She pulled away, her smile softening.  
  


He pressed his lips together, breathing deep through his nose as he tried to quell the sob that was building in his chest. “I just wish you could be there, with me.”  
  


Her smile wavered, and a flash of sadness appeared in her eyes, and she sighed. “Me, too. But then I wouldn’t be able to help you, like this.”  
  


Merlin sighed, and squeezed her hand. “Morgana… She said that you had something you needed to tell me.”  
  


Freya nodded, and the sun seemed to catch on the long waves of her hair. “Yes, Merlin.”  
  


She looked up, and met his eyes, and Merlin felt the seriousness of whatever she was about to say settle into the air around them.  
  


“I think I might have a way to save Lancelot.”


	36. To the depths of the water you are sent (Into the arms of one who is gentle)

Gwen watched as Merlin paced. He seemed so much more tired then when he had left, and it disconcerted her.  
  


And there were several things that could be contributing to that. They were certainly contributing to _her_ stress.  
  


First was that Kay had come back on his own, with a message from Merlin telling Gaius about some creature called a fommoroh that was driving him to try and kill Merlin, and they had to lock him in the dungeons until they could find and destroy the mother beast.  
  


Second, Merlin said he had information on Morgana, but _wouldn’t tell them what_ , and that made her _incredibly_ worried. Because she thought they were past him keeping secrets. But he had insisted it was something that had to wait, so the rest of them had let it drop for the moment.  
  


And third, he had found a possible way to save Lancelot, and now they just had to figure out _how_ to get the knight where he needed to be. Namely, a lake called ‘ _Avalon.’_ Apparently.  
  


She was more than a little worried for Merlin, if she was going to be perfectly honest. But, they all had a part to play, so…  
  


“I’ll do it. I’ll get Lancelot to Avalon.”  
  


“Wha- Gwen, no!” Arthur said, his voice going high. “He’s been trying to get you alone this entire time, why would we le-”  
  


Merlin stopped and looked at her, tilting his head to the side. “Actually…”  
  


“ _Mer_ lin. You cannot _actually_ -”  
  


Merlin held his hand up, cutting Arthur off _again_. “You’re right in that he’s been trying to get her alone, so we need to _use that._ ”  
  


“But-”  
  


“Gwen can handle herself just fine. If you’re _so_ worried for her safety, even though I’ll be watching over her from a distance, we can give her a dagger.”  
  


Gwen squirmed, uncomfortable with the implication. “I don’t want to hurt Lancelot…”  
  


Merlin frowned as he turned back to her. “I know. But you might have too, for your own protection.”  
  


Gwen frowned, but took a breath and nodded. “Alright, I’ll take a dagger, then.”

* * *

She sighed as she waited in the armory, watching the knights- Minus Leon and Elyan-, Arthur, and Merlin all arguing over the daggers they had.  
  


It was honestly starting to get ridiculous, and she huffed and marched over to the table they had spread them about on, her eyes taking them all in, before she grabbed a silver handled one with purple gems embedded into the hilt. “This one. There, I have a dagger. Are we done, now?”  
  


There was much arguing, once again. Something about the weight and balance, and she scoffed. She wasn’t _insulted_ , really, but…  
  


Well, yes, actually, she _was.  
  
_

She huffed, and made eye contact with Elyan and rolled her eyes.  
  


He and Leon both chuckled, and Leon clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Sire, are you forgetting that your wife-to-be grew up in a blacksmith’s home?”  
  


Arthur paused, or, well, _everyone_ paused at that.  
  


Her husband-to-be was just the most obvious about it.  
  


“Ah…” Gwaine muttered, taking a look at the dagger she held in her hand with new eyes. “Let me guess, you made that one?”  
  


Gwen grinned, and reached over with her empty hand to pat Gwaine’s shoulder. “You are correct. I’ll have Audrey make you an apple pie.”  
  


Gwaine grinned, and Merlin snorted, before hooking his arm around hers. “Come on, we need this to be convincing, so you need to wear the bracelet he gave you.”  
  


“But… The enchantment?”  
  


Merlin had a very mischievous look on his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, what I _meant_ to say was; You need to wear the _duplicate_ I made, so he _thinks_ you’re wearing the bracelet.”  
  


“Ahh.” She nodded. “I see.”

* * *

Gwen sighed as she brushed the wrinkles out of her dress, and tried not to immediately undo all her work by twisting her fingers into the fabric.  
  


She was nervous, to say the least. The idea that they had was a slim one, and riding purely on the words of someone that Merlin swore they could trust, but wouldn’t tell them more about. He’d even admitted his source on this wasn’t entirely sure themselves if it would work.  
  


But it was all they had, so it’s what they were going with.  
  


She lifted her head at the sound of footfalls, and swallowed as she straightened her posture. she was in a secluded little area by a secret exit to the woods. A siege tunnel exit, really, but one that had long ago been deemed too unstable for use in an actual attack, and already replaced.  
  


The door slowly creaked open, and Not-Lancelot stepped out, grinning that off-kilter grin of his that made her uncomfortable.  
  


“Gwen,” He said, reaching for her hand and lifting it to his lips. His eyes flickering from her face to the duplicate bracelet glinting in the sun and back again.  
  


She forced a smile on her face, forced her body to loosen so it would seem as if she was melting as she pulled the hand holders hers to her cheek. “Lancelot. I’m glad you came.”  
  


“Of course, you asked me, too.”  
  


She took a step towards him, frowning. “No one followed you, right?”  
  


“Of course not.” He tilted his head to the side. “You said you wanted to go somewhere…”  
  


Gwen nodded. “I did. Follow me.”  
  


“To the ends of the earth, Gwen.”

* * *

Gwen slowly walked backwards, the shade the trees provided falling away as she led Not-Lancelot on to the shore.  
  


“Gwen, where is this?” He asked, looking around. His eyes seemed to linger on the lake, and his shoulders were beginning to tense. Like he could sense the magic of the place. Like he _knew_ what was going to happen.  
  


Gwen tightened her grip on his hands, and closed the distance between them, going up on her tip toes to place her mouth close to his ear.  
  


“Somewhere private, where Arthur won’t think to look for either of us.” She whispered. Pulling back and gazing in to his too-cold eyes.  
  


Not-Lancelot smiled, slow and slick, though it was clearly an attempt to match his _real_ smile. He leaned down, and nearly captured her lips with his.  
  


She pulled away, and quickly covered her panic with the closest to coy smile she could manage as he opened his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.  
  


“Wait,” She said, tilting her head as she bit her lip. “Come on, lets go closer to the water.”  
  


“Are you sure?” Not-Lancelot asked, tugging her back towards the tree line. “It’s more open.”  
  


“I am…” She bit her lip, deliberately meeting his eyes as she did so, and lifting the hand with the false-bracelet to his cheek, caressing it. “Please, Lancelot?”  
  


His eyes fell to the bracelet, and he seemed to relax, just as Merlin said he would, and Gwen nearly breathed a sigh of relief as Lancelot followed her the rest of the way to the lake.  
  


The water was up to their shins when he pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. “No more of this, Gwen. Just kiss me already.”  
  


Gwen bit her lip, and took a deep breath. This was it, it was all out of their hands now. It was all up to Merlin’s mysterious friend.  
  


She met his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lancelot.”  
  


“Gwe-”  
  


Lancelot was unable to finish, as she spun them around, and pulled her hands from his, pressing them against his chest and shoving him.  
  


There was _true terror_ in his eyes as he fell backwards, and the splash he made as he hit the water her wince.  
  


There was a hand around her arm, pulling her back out of the water as it began to glimmer, a radiant light show dancing above the surface.  
  


She turned and buried her head against Arthur’s chest. Hoping, hoping, _hoping._


	37. And so said the queen of clubs (I forfeit my crown, for I stand with others)

Morgana sat, her back straight and her shoulders square. She was sitting like the lady she had been born as.  
  


She was sitting like the princess that Uther had raised her as, or, well, when you compared how he raised a prince to it. (Like the princess that she _was_.)  
  


She sat like the Queen Morgause had trained her to be. Though it twisted something deep inside to do so.  
  


She could hear feet crunching behind her, coming from outside, and she took a deep breath. She was facing the wall opposite the door, and her fingers were carefully wrapped around a jar.  
  


The door creaked, as it always did, when it opened, and Morgana heard the familiar footfalls enter.  
  


The crystal around her neck was glowing, slightly. The spells Elaine had enchanted it with feeding off of the magic Merlin had poured into it before they parted ways.  
  


The sound of footsteps paused.  
  


“Who are you?”  
  


Morgana stood from the chair, careful not to drop the jar she held. The black shawl, which she had found in her old things and donned alongside her black dress that had remained here, both turned a deep blue with gold hemming, poured over her elbows, the magically lengthened ends of it pooling on the floor and trailing behind her as she stepped around the chair.  
  


She lifted her chin, and used her magically enhanced height to glare down at Morgause.  
  


“Who do you think I am?”  
  


She felt some sort of thrill as she watched Morgause’s eyes widen, and as she sucked in a large breath, taking a step back.  
  


“I… You’re… You’re _dead_.”  
  


Morgana’s chest twisted at the surety of Morgause’s words, as if she _knew_. But she couldn’t let it show, so she took a second, before deliberately meeting Morgause’s eyes.  
  


“Maybe I am… Maybe I am not… You have plenty of experience in that, don’t you?”  
  


Morgause took another step back, her hand reaching for the door, and Morgana adjusted the jar into the crook of her elbow, using her now free hand to flick her fingers at it. The door slammed shut and Morgause went tense.  
  


Morgana hummed, lifting her eyebrows at the reaction, before lifting the jar to her eye level, peering at the multi-headed, hissing creature inside.  
  


Morgause swallowed, and pressed her lips together. “What do you want, Vivienne.” She hissed.  
  


Morgana tutted, the only memory she had of her mother. Holding her close and tutting at a noble boy her age. It had been the son of Igraine’s niece, who herself was daughter to Tristan, if she remembered correctly, who had been chasing her.  
  


That had been one of the last times she had seen her mother. She had been five, at the time.  
  


She desperately wished the tutting would have been simple words of ‘ _I love you_.’ Or even just a nickname. But at least she had the sensation of being held buried deep in her bones. Maybe magic, maybe pure love, she didn’t know.  
  


But Morgause clearly also knew the tutting, she had five years on Morgana. And it wouldn’t surprise her if her mother had gone to the isle of the blessed in the time before the purge. Now that she knew that her mother was a seer as well.  
  


Maybe even after it, too.  
  


“Do you know what you are doing?” She asked, tucking the jar into the crook of her elbow once more. “Do you? Or are you taking your anger out at anyone within reaching distance? Tell me, Morgause. Do you _want_ magic to be free, or did you just want to hurt Uther? Because he stole your mother from your father? Do you just want to hurt Arthur? Because he is Uther’s son, and your brother but not, and, if you were to look at it in the most twisted way imaginable, the reason your mother is dead?  
  


Morgause was _seething_ , now. Her shoulders heaving and her teeth bared, her fingers curling into shaking fists.  
  


“How dare you. How _dare_ you!” She yelled, her voice trembling, tears gathering in her eyes. “Maybe I want both! Maybe! Why should Arthur be on the throne? Why should he be the one to rule Camelot? He should _never_ have been _born_! I should still have my _mother!_ ”  
  


“And yet, you must know… He plans to lift the ban on magic. You _must know that._ ”  
  


“I. _Don’t._ _ **Care.”**_ Morgause said through gritted teeth, before taking a breath that visibly shook in her chest. “His birth is what _began_ _this_. I want his death to be what _ends it.”  
  
_

“But _why_?”  
  


“It’s because of him that I grew up without a mother.”  
  


Morgana sighed, and closed her eyes, shaking her head a little.  
  


“So did he…” She looked up, met Morgause’s eyes once more. “You are so wrapped up in your anger, and your grief, that you have forgotten… Uther is the one who took your mother from your father, Uther is the one who told Nimueh to use magic, Uther is the one who didn’t care about the cost of getting a legitimate, male heir. Arthur, too, grew up with no mother because of Uther’s cruelness.”  
  


She tilted her head to the side. “And you _knew_ that, Morgause.” What Merlin had told her was playing on repeat in her mind, now. “You _know_ that. Because you summoned your mother’s spirit from beyond the veil, tried to use her against Arthur, and you _heard her_ say that she would have given her life willingly for him.”  
  


Morgause laughed, a bitter-tainted one, and looked away. It did not hide the tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. “That was just an illu-”  
  


“You and I both know that’s not true.”  
  


“And how would _you_ know that?”  
  


“Have you forgotten? Merlin was there.”  
  


Morgause laughed again, though this one was much more of a mocking one. “Merlin? _Really?_ Perhaps he used a powerful spell to heal Uther, the little traitor, but do you honestly think he’s powerful enough to know an illusion from a being beyond the veil?”  
  


Morgana tutted, again. Shaking her head slowly.  
  


“He has another name, Morgause.”  
  


“Oh? Really? And what’s that.”  
  


Morgan took a deep breath, and swallowed. Merlin had given her permission to tell Morgause this.  
  


She had argued, at first. The news was shocking to her, the words the Cailleach had said ringing in her ears, but she had shoved it away. It didn’t matter, anymore.  
  


What _mattered_ was what would happen when Morgause had this information.  
  


But he’d known it would be dangerous, he just hoped that Morgause would think it more dangerous to herself.  
  


He had _insisted_ , and when he had turned those eyes on her, deep as the ocean and looking just as old. ~~_Eyes she knew. Eyes she remembered so clearly and oh how it struck her that the man she had seen so sad as a child was younger in body than she was.  
  
_~~

_She found she could not refuse.  
  
_

“Something that the old religion itself calls him.”  
  


Morgause looked confused, now, her eyebrows furrowing together.  
  


“You know as well as I do that the old religion does not _give_ it’s followers names, Vivienne. We choose them, ourselves, when we have achieved all we can. But that tradition died out with the purge. He’s too young.”  
  


“Merlin did not choose his. It has _been_ his since before he was even born.”  
  


“Well,” Morgause said, lifting her chin and glaring at her. “What is it?”  
  


“ **Emrys.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Vivienne"](https://night-faye.tumblr.com/post/645749319115423744/vivienne-from-and-its-a-rotten-thing-it-comes)


	38. And while blood does not link us (We are of the same name)

Freya watched from below the shimmering, undulating veil, composed of so many fantastical blues and greens and purples, that separated Avalon and the lake, ready to tear it open once more. She was tired, and the energy it required to do so was great, but it was all _worth_ it.  
  


She watched as the water above rippled as Gwen led Lancelot out, watched as they spoke.  
  


Watched, ready and waiting, for the moment where she would need to act.  
  


A few moments later, Gwen spun the two of them around, and shoved Lancelot into the water.  
  


His back hit the water, and it broke, and he started falling through the depths. She surged upwards and grabbed the barely tangible wisps of Avalon’s veil, and, drawing the power of the lake, and the magic that Merlin was pouring into it, she tore.  
  


Lancelot fell through the opening, and she just barely managed to catch him, his sudden added weight sending them both to the craggy floor, despite the near weightlessness that Avalon ought to grant everyone within it.  
  


She breathed a sigh of relief, because him being heavy, down here, meant that he had not become a part of the world beyond the living. His soul was alive.  
  


She _could save him.  
  
_

He gasped, and rolled off of her, scrambling to his feet. She looked up, and her eyes widened. It wasn’t him, just yet. Falling through Avalon’s veil hadn’t been enough.  
  


She pushed herself up, and held out her hand. “Lancelot?” She asked, swallowing as she hoped.  
  


“Who are you?” He asked, and her heart _shattered_. Because he should know. He should _know. He should_ _ **know,**_ _and curse Morgause for t_ _earing that away from him_ _.  
  
_

She took a deep breath, calming herself. “Someone who’s going to help you,” She said, slowly walking towards him. There was a flash in his eyes, and there seemed to be an internal battle. “It’s okay, just let me help you.”  
  


He took a step back, looking _angrier_ on his face but _desperate_ in his eyes. “You took me away from Gwen.”  
  


“I didn’t. I. _Didn’t_. Gwen sent you here, to me, because you are not _whole_.”  
  


Freya surged forward, and grabbed his hand, tight. He tugged at it, but not enough to pull away. She got closer, and pressed one hand to a side of the face, and then quickly let his hand go with her other to press it to the other side.  
  


“Close your eyes, now.” She said, softly, tugging on the magic around her, breathing it in and pushing it to her hands.  
  


Still, there was a struggle, but eventually Lancelot closed his eyes.  
  


She placed her fingers at his temples, and slowly whispered a spell, one she had seen only once and could only hope she was doing right, the unfamiliar warmth of magic across her eyes, a warmth she had only felt once during the second worst moment of her life.  
  


She had taken a life, back then.  
  


Now, she was giving one.  
  


A bright light lit where her fingers were pressed into his skin, and inky black spilled out from under his eyelids, rolling down his cheeks like tears and dripping to the floor from his chin.  
  


She kept her hands pressed against the sides of his face, until the black turned gold, and the gold turned to plain, clear tears.  
  


She smiled, once the light had faded, and pulled her hands down, wiping the black and gold liquid from under his eyes before cleaning them off on her dress.  
  


It didn’t stain, of course.  
  


“Lancelot?” She asked, tilting her head, “Are you with me?”  
  


He opened his eyes, and oh how _bright_ they were, the cold of them gone and once again replaced with his usual softness.  
  


He blinked down at her, shock flooding his features.  
  


“Freya. I- It’s… You… How?” He breathed.  
  


Freya’s smile grew, and she nodded as tears gathered in her eyes. “Yes, it’s me. And it’s a long story, but I…” She paused, biting her lip. “Sorry, first I need to ask some questions… Just in case, just to be sure.”  
  


“Go ahead.”  
  


“Who do you serve?” She asked, holding her breath.  
  


“No one but myself, but I _choose_ to serve Arthur.”  
  


Grinning, she nodded, and let herself take a breath. “And, who are you?”  
  


He grinned and straightened his shoulders, standing tall and proud. The air of a knight flowing from him, just like he had always dreamed.  
  


“My name is Lancelot Du Lac, knight of Camelot. I am loyal to Arthur, and to Merlin, and to Gwen, and to my fellow knights of the round table.”  
  


She laughed, and nodded. “And..?”  
  


“And,” His grin grew, and his eyes became wet with unshed tears. “Though we do not share any blood, we _chose_ to share a name, we _chose_ to be siblings.” He reached out to her, so clearly hopeful. “I am your brother, Freya, and I have _missed you._ ”  
  


Freya surged into him, holding him tightly as he wrapped his arms around her.  
  


And _oh_ , had she _missed_ this.  
  


Slowly, they pulled apart.  
  


“Freya, what happened to you? You just… Disappeared.” He asked, his eyebrows scrunching together. She swallowed, and looked away. Couldn’t bear to see him so sad.  
  


“Something… Something bad happened, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t face you. And then… So much else happened, and I couldn’t bring myself to look for you, I was in a bad place and I thought…” She shook her head. “I thought you would hate me.”  
  


“Freya…”  
  


She looked up at him, felt the weight of her own sadness deep in her chest. “And then… I met Merlin, and I fell in love with him, and I thought… Maybe he could help me escape Camelot, and I could find you again, and we could go back together. I was so sure you would like him, too. He seemed the type you’d get on with.”  
  


There was a flicker of a smile on Lancelot’s lips, and he nodded, as if that made perfect sense. She supposed it probably did. Because obviously he _did_ like Merlin.  
  


‘ _Who wouldn’t.’_ She wondered, quietly. ‘ _After they’d gotten to know him, who_ _ **wouldn’t**_ _like Merlin?’  
  
_

She sighed, and shook her head, blinking back tears. “But I was scared, he was risking _so much_ , so I tried to leave on my own, and… I…” She licked her lips, and looked away from Lancelot’s face, couldn’t bear to see it as she spoke again. "I died.”  
  


“ _Oh_.” He sounded so _devastated_ and _heartbroken_. And she nearly fell apart right there.  
  


She bit her lip, trying to distract herself, and shrugged. “But it’s okay…” She looked back up at him, and immediately sighed, lifting a hand to cup his face. It was a further reach than she was used to, and it sort of settled in just how bizarre this was.  
  


Here she was, trapped in her fifteen year old body, and instead of being only six years older than her, and perfectly within reach, he was twenty five, now.  
  


Time, marching on without them. And yet, here he was, being given a chance to march on even longer without her. It hurt, a little, to be so knowingly left behind. But she shoved it away. She was one hurt heart versus the several upon the shores above them.  
  


All of this, every thought of hers, was plain as day on her brother’s face.  
  


“Please, Lance, don’t give me that look, it really _is_ okay. _I swear_. If I was still alive, I wouldn’t have been able to help. And, come on, I have to believe there’s a _reason_ for this.”  
  


Lancelot didn’t look convinced, but he acquiesced with a small nod, and she smiled.  
  


“Come on, then. Let’s get you back up there.” She took his hand, squeezing it tight. “Take a deep breath, and hold it. You’re going to need it.”


	39. And you take up your golden soul (And you come back to us, whole once more)

Merlin stood, knee deep, in the waters, watching carefully for any shift.  
  


He was barely suppressing his shaking, nervous energy flood his veins. All they could do was _wait_. Wait for either Freya to come up with Lancelot, or…  
  


Or alone.  
  


He swallowed, and took a deep breath. And watched.  
  


“Do you think this will work?” A voice asked beside him. Merlin flicked his eyes over for a moment, before returning his gaze to the water.  
  


“You’re getting your pants soaked.”  
  


“That’s not an answer.” He said, and after a few more moments of silence from Merlin, he sighed. “Yeah… So what if I am? I wanted to check on you, make sure you’re alright. Dry pants isn’t really that high on my priority list.”  
  


Merlin felt his lips twitch upwards, and he chuckled a little. “Thanks.”  
  


He watched Elyan nod out of the corner of his eye as he slung his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight side hug.  
  


“If this doesn’t work… Are you going to be alright?”  
  


Merlin sighed, and let his head drop against Elyan’s shoulder. “Eventually.” He admitted, quietly.  
  


He would hurt, for a long time, yes. But…  
  


Eventually, he’d be fine again. He had plenty of experience when it came to losing the people he cared about…  
  


He had experience losing _Lancelot_. Losing him a second time was sure to hurt more, but…  
  


He could feel Elyan’s eyes burning into the top of his head, and then the knight squeezed him again. “Well, until you are, you’ll have us… We’ll get through this together.”  
  


“Let’s… Let’s just hope that this works.” He whispered, and Elyan hummed.  
  


“Yeah… Yeah, let’s do that.” Elyan turned his head, so Merlin lifted his own to meet the knights eyes.  
  


Elyan grinned at him. “But I’ll still stand out here, with you.”  
  


Merlin snorted, and wrapped his arm around Elyan’s back. “Thanks… Again.”  
  


“Of course, Merlin.”

* * *

He wasn’t sure how long it had been. Only that the sun had dropped almost below the mountains, and that the stars were starting to be visible.  
  


The water was cold, and there was a breeze in the air, but still Merlin had not moved. Elyan had, only once, and that had been to bring two blankets, now settled over their shoulders, and food and drink.  
  


He felt it in his toes before he saw it.  
  


The radiant light show of blues, and purples, and greens. Dancing across the surface of the water as it began to ripple.  
  


Merlin swallowed, tossing the blanket off of his shoulders and at Elyan, who scrambled to catch it without dumping his own into the water.  
  


He took a step forward, and crouched a little, trying to see past the darkness.  
  


Laughter spilled from his lips as Freya broke the surface, her hair drying as it flipped through the air.  
  


Lancelot, in her arms, wet and shivering slightly, and breathing hard after a large gasp for air.  
  


Merlin reached out and grabbed Lancelot by his elbows, pulling him from the drop-off of the lake and onto the submerged shore that he and Elyan were standing on.  
  


“Lanc-” He started, but was cut off as Lancelot threw his arms around him, effectively _drenching_ him with the amount of water that was clinging to him.  
  


“ _Merlin._ ” Lancelot breathed, laughing a little.  
  


Merlin felt like his grin was going to split his face, and he hugged Lancelot back, digging his fingers into his friends back and burying his head against his shoulder.  
  


The water rippled around them, and he heard Elyan whisper to, presumably, Freya. “It’s really him?”  
  


“Yes… It is.” Freya said, and the rush of pure _relief_ hit Merlin like a horse. He laughed, loudly, and buried himself deeper into Lancelot’s hug. Lancelot didn’t seem to mind, at all, if his response of tightening his own hold was anything to go by.  
  


Elyan laughed from somewhere beside them, and Merlin felt the warmth of a blanket settle over his arms. “Come on, you two, let’s get Lancelot to shore so he doesn’t immediately catch his death of a cold.”  
  


Lancelot pulled himself from Merlin, and while Merlin was slightly disappointed by the loss of contact, watching Lancelot cry ‘ _Elyan!’_ as he threw himself at Elyan and wrapped the other knight into a hug of his own made it easier.  
  


Elyan laughed, and patted Lancelot’s back. “Hey, Lancelot. Okay, okay- Lancelot, I wasn’t kidding, Merlin and I have been out here for hours. It’s freezing. Can we please get to shore?”  
  


Lancelot pulled away, and nodded, and Elyan threw the other blanket around his shoulders, tugging both of them tight around him.  
  


Lancelot took a step, and he nearly fell into the water. Merlin and Elyan quickly looped their arms around Lancelot’s.  
  


“Come on, you’re good, we’ve got you.” Elyan muttered, pulling the arm he had around his shoulders.  
  


“Thanks, you guys.”  
  


“Of course, Lancelot.” Merlin said, grinning at him.

* * *

When they reached the shore, Percival was the first one to tear Lancelot from Elyan and Merlin, bringing him into an enveloping hug that Lancelot yelped at, at first, before laughing and hugging him back.  
  


“It’s good to see you, too, Percy.”  
  


Lancelot slowly pulled away, though he kept his hands on Percival’s arms for a moment longer, nodding at Percival.  
  


Percival swallowed, licked his lips, grinned, and nodded back.  
  


“Lancelot.” Arthur called, coming towards them. Lancelot turned, and he laughed.  
  


“Arthur, hey… Congratulations on the engagement. Sorry about-”  
  


“Oh, shut up.” Arthur said, tugging Lancelot into a hug.  
  


Merlin couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lancelot’s grin, so _bright_ and so _Lancelot_. A little lopsided, and a bit toothy, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed.  
  


Completely _him_.  
  


Merlin felt _light_. Light in a way that he hadn’t since Lancelot stepped through that veil, all those months ago.  
  


Slowly, Arthur pulled away, slapping his hand against Lancelot’s shoulder and shaking him a bit. “It’s good to have you back, _properly_.”  
  


Lancelot swallowed, and nodded. “You, uh… You used magic to do it…”  
  


Everyone froze, for a moment, and all eyes besides Lancelot’s flicked over to Merlin.  
  


Lancelot turned his head, a confused look on his face, and Merlin bit his lip.  
  


“They, uh…” He swallowed, and laughed a little. “They know about my magic, now. Have for a while.”  
  


Lancelot’s eyes widened, and his grin returned full force as he whipped his head back to Arthur. “And you’re fine with it?” He asked, his voice shaky with disbelief.  
  


Arthur nodded. “Yes, I am. We’ve been working on repealing the ban these past several months, but it’s an incredibly slow process, especially with-”  
  


“Agravaine being a traitor.” Lancelot said, interrupting Arthur. Arthur nodded.  
  


“Yes. We don’t want it getting out until we are solidly ready to put it into place. The council wouldn’t accept any less, and we need to be careful. We do already have an allied kingdom looped into it, though.”  
  


“Caerleon?” Lancelot asked, furrowing his eyebrows.  
  


Arthur nodded again. “Yes.”  
  


“That’s great, you guys. That’s just.. That’s just _r_ _eally_ great.” Lancelot laughed, grinning again.  
  


“It is,” Gwen said, walking over to them, her eyes wet with unshed tears and a shaky smile pulling at her lips. “It’s also great that you’re back with us. _Properly_ , this time.”  
  


Lancelot nodded, swallowing, his smile going shaky. “Gwen… I can’t begin to apologize enough, I’m _so-”  
  
_

“ _Oh,_ none of that, now _._ Just shut up and hug me already.” Gwen interrupted, stepping forward and opening her arms.  
  


Lancelot stepped into them, hugging her tightly, and she wrapped her arms around him.  
  


“There, there.” She whispered, rubbing her hands up and down his back. “It’s alright. It wasn’t you, there’s nothing to apologize for.”  
  


“Gwen,” He pulled away, though wrapped his fingers around her elbows. “I…” He sighed, and shook his head. “I’m not… I mean, I _know_ what I was doing as a shade wasn’t really… _Me,_ ” He sucked in a breath, and shut his eyes. “But I was still… I heard you say you felt guilty, for asking me to bring Arthur home. I tried to tell you then, but Morgause’s hold was too powerful.”  
  


He opened his eyes again, and smiled softly. “Gwen, _it wasn’t your fault._ I would’ve gone through that veil if you had asked me or not. To protect Camelot, to protect Arthur, to protect the other knights, to protect Merlin. I sacrificed myself because it was the only option that I could… Accept, I guess, since I wouldn’t really be living with it.” His lips twitched into a quick smile, before he continued. “And I would have still done it, no matter what. Even if you had told me to come home.”  
  


Tears were streaming down Gwen’s cheeks, now, and she laughed wetly, which quickly degraded into sobs as she threw herself back into Lancelot’s arms, her entire body shaking.  
  


“As touching as this is,” Gwaine said, voice thick. “I still haven’t gotten _my_ hug, y’know.”  
  


Gwen laughed, again, and it mingled with the rest of their laughter as she slowly pulled away from Lancelot.  
  


Lancelot opened his arms and Gwaine stepped into them, hugging him tight and slapping him on his back. “Hey, Lance.”  
  


“Hey, Gwaine.” Lancelot muttered.  
  


“Don’t _ever_ do anything like that again, you got it?” Gwaine said as he pulled away, before smacking Lancelot across the side of his head Lancelot’s hair ruffling a little as he laughed. “You made Merlin cry, and I thought we had an agreement to _stop_ anyone from doing that!”  
  


Lancelot sobered, and he nodded.  
  


“I’ll definitely try.”  
  


“Good. Welcome back, Lance.”  
  


“Thanks, Gwaine. It’s good to be back.”  
  


Merlin _grinned_. Because for the first time since the veil, everything felt _right_.  
  


Better than right, actually. A corner of his mind carefully holding the thought of Morgana coming home, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I cried writing Lancelot's speech to Gwen


	40. Set fire to the cursed things (Burn the past, forge the future)

Morgana sighed as she tucked the fommoroh into one of Pierrick’s saddlebags, and refused to acknowledge her shaking hands.  
  


She had thought she would be fine facing Morgause. It had been why, when she heard the footfalls, she had taken a seat and waited for her to enter the hut, instead of making an escape. She had been disguised, just for something as unpredictable as Morgause already being there, or showing up.  
  


She thought she would be _ready_.  
  


But, she hadn’t been, and she really, really, _really wasn’t fine_.  
  


Her breath caught in her throat, and she desperately reached up and grabbed the horn and cantle of the saddle, trying to breath at the delayed panic that felt like it was squeezing her lungs, her vision tunneling as her heart pounded.  
  


She gasped, and hiccupped, and whatever air it felt like she was pulling in _wasn’t getting to her lungs. She was going to pass out, right here, on the forest floor.  
  
_

Pierrick swung his head around, and nudged his muzzle against her cheek, starling her into gasping a real breath of air, her lungs expanding once more, before slowly emptying as she blew the breath out.  
  


She took another, and tried not to be too greedy, too fast, in regaining her lost air.  
  


Finally, she didn’t know how long later, she laughed. She didn’t care how wet it sounded as she let go of the saddle to place her hands on either side of Pierrick’s muzzle, pulling his head down and placing her forehead between his eyes.  
  


“Thank you, Pierrick. You’re very good at calming me down, you know?”  
  


He snorted, and she laughed again, before licking her lips and taking a deep breath. “Okay,” She said, nodding once. “Let’s go, yeah?”  
  


She grabbed the horn again, and put her foot in the stirrup, hauling herself up and adjusting slightly until she was comfortable. She grabbed at the reins, holding them loose, but tight enough to tighten them fast, if it was needed.  
  


“Alright, Pierrick,” She dug her heels slightly into his loins, “You know where to go. Take me back to Freya.”

* * *

She could see the flickering of a campfire a little ways past the treeline, and pulled the reins until Pierrick stopped.  
  


“Shhh, boy, it’s alright.” Morgana soothed, running a hand over his neck. “I’ll be back, yeah? Stay here a minute.”  
  


She grabbed the horn, and freed one of her feet from the stirrups, dismounting.  
  


Morgana opened the saddlebag with the fommoroh, and carefully pulled the jar out, before turning and making her way, as quietly as possible, to the edge of the treeline.  
  


She was still hidden by the darkness they provided, and only just out of reach of the light of the fire.  
  


She leaned against one of the trees, watching carefully.  
  


The campfire had been built as close to the waters edge as possible, apparently so that Freya was able to sit with them, her feet still in the water, and the knights, Merlin, and Arthur were huddled close to it.  
  


Morgana smiled, seeing that Lancelot was one of the ones sitting around the campfire. They all looked so _happy,_ and every so often one of them would reach over just to lay a hand on Lancelot, a hand to his shoulder, fingers squeezing, or to his thigh, shaking it slightly, or ruffling his hair, or gently knocking their knee or foot against his leg.  
  


Like they were doing everything they could to reassure themselves that he was really there.  
  


She looked down at the jar with the fommoroh, raising her eyebrow at it, “Well, you ugly little thing, did you really think you could destroy _that?_ Morgause sure called you up for no good reason, huh?” She muttered, before looking back at the scene, taking the time to take in everything about it.  
  


Merlin, the only one other than Lancelot and Freya that she could see _clearly_ , given that they were all very close to each other, and getting the most light from the campfire from where she was standing, was pressed up against Lancelot, grinning wide, his eyes crinkling as he laughed.  
  


She took a deep breath, before rearranging the fommoroh in her arms, and taking off the string that held the cloth over the opening, before quickly clamping her hand down to keep it there herself.  
  


She walked forward as quiet as possible. Merlin still noticed her, but he was the only one to do so, and the straightening of his back, the squaring of his shoulders, was almost imperceptible.  
  


She stopped, and that’s when Leon noticed her, jolting as he reached for his sword. She ignored the urge to flinch, and quickly dumped the jar out over the fire.  
  


Merlin stretched his hand out towards it, his eyes bleeding into gold as he spoke, “Ontende þisne wyrm þæt he licgeþ unastyred a butan ende.”  
  


The creature shrieked as it shriveled, before crumbling away to ash, and Merlin looked up at her and _grinned.  
  
_

“Well, that’s the fommoroh dealt with. You okay, Morgana?”  
  


Everyone was looking at her now, and Gwaine, the one closest to her, was holding the tip of his sword to her throat, a murderous expression on his face. She tried not to let it hurt, knew that she deserved it, but… It did, a little.  
  


She smiled at Merlin, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright. The extra power you gave the crystal is working wonders, and I disguised myself before getting the fommoroh and seeing Morgause. She doesn’t know it was me.”  
  


Merlin’s smile grew, and he patted the part of the log on the other side of him. “Come on, then. Join us. We’re planning to stay here the night, just so Freya can monitor Lancelot.”  
  


“Merlin?” Arthur asked. Not taking his eyes off of her.  
  


Morgana stayed quiet as she moved around the outside of the ring, before taking her offered seat, and smiling at Freya, who had her head resting on her arms between Merlin and her. Freya grinned back up at her, and nodded her head.  
  


Morgana nodded back, before looking down at her lap, where she was tangling her fingers together in an effort to stay calm.  
  


Merlin cleared his throat, and out of the corner of her eye she watched as he rubbed the back of his neck, his neckerchief rustling with the action. “It’s a really long story, and… Morgana can explain it better, later. But…” He smiled, and this wasn’t just a general smile, this was directed right at Arthur. “The short of it is; Morgause was influencing her. Using magic to bring her darker thoughts to the surface. But… She ended up somewhere that was warded from Morgause’s magic, and was freed from it.” He looked over to Morgana, and nodded.  
  


It was a clear indication that it was Morgana’s turn to speak, and she tried not to cry as she took a deep breath, remembering what Merlin had told her… What Arthur had said, about her, when Merlin told him of his magic.  
  


She swallowed, and looked up at Arthur, meeting his eyes and smiling at him. “If you let me, Arthur, I’d like to come home.”


	41. All the days we spent by the river (All the ways we got slivers)

“ _ **Leon, love, come here.” He mother called, her voice low as she waved him other. She was talking to a nobleman, who had dark hair, and kind eyes, and was holding a small girl to his hip.  
  
**_

_**Leon shoved his chair away from the desk he was practicing his letters at, and wandered over, clutching at his mother’s skirts as he leaned towards him.  
  
** _

“ _ **Leon, this is lord Gorlois.” His mother said, smiling softly.  
  
**_

_**Gorlois crouched down, and adjusted his grip on the girl. The little girl stared at him with large, green eyes that seemed glittery with gold.  
  
** _

“ _ **It’s very nice to meet you, Leon.” Lord Gorlois said, voice soft and slightly gruff. “This is my daughter, Morgana.”  
  
**_

“ _ **Hi, Morgana.” Leon said, grinning. “I’m Leon, I’m ten, and I’m going to be a knight someday!”  
  
**_

_**Morgana giggled, and leaned away from her father’s body, though her small fingers were still curled into his sleeve. “Hi, Leon. I’m six, and I’m gonna be knight, too. Just like my father!”  
  
** _

_**Leon frowned, furrowing his brows. “Girls can’t be knights. That’s what the king says.”  
  
** _

_**Morgana pouted, and Leon felt a little bad. He hadn’t meant to be mean to her, but it was true. The king was always very specific that you had to be the son of a noble to be a knight.  
  
** _

“ _ **Well, maybe you can’t be a knight, but I bet I could still teach you to use a sword! Girls can do that, to protect themselves!”**_ _ **He blinked, and tilted his head. “Or at least, I think so. I never saw any girls but the queen on the training fields, but I bet since the queen used to do it, you could, too!”  
  
**_

_**Morgana’s eyes seemed to shine, and she practically toppled out of her father’s arms. “Really? Will you, will you?”  
  
** _

_**Leon nodded, grinning, now. “Sure, if your father says yes.”  
  
** _

_**Morgana whipped her head to her father, “Oh, please, can I?”  
  
** _

_**Gorlois sighed, and smiled. “As long as you’re careful, love. I suppose you may.”  
  
** _

_**Morgana’s face split into a grin as she whipped her head back to Leon, her black hair whipping her father in the face. “Did you hear that, Leo? Father said I can!”  
  
** _

_**Leon’s own grin widened, and he held out his hand. “Come on, I have some wooden swords already. I can teach you stances, first.”  
  
** _

“ _ **Okay!” Morgana said, taking his hand as her father set her down.  
  
**_

_**He led her out to the back garden, and to the small shed where his father was storing all the training gear.  
  
** _

_**They would train together until it devolved into chasing each other around, waving wooden swords around, until the sun set and lord Gorlois came out to get Morgana.** _

* * *

“’ _ **Gana!” Someone yelled, in a very distinct, high pitched voice. Morgana giggled, her foot slipping a little off the slate. “’Gana! If you come out now and tell me where Leon is, there’s a blackberry pie in it for you!”  
  
**_

_**Leon tightened his hold on her, pulling her back up, higher onto the slate roof they were on. He’d managed to escape his mother, and had managed to drag Morgana away from her assigned handmaiden, and Arthur from his tutor, and now they were playing a high stakes game of ‘Hunt’.  
  
** _

_**Morgana pushed her hands against her mouth, eyes bright with laughter, as they watched Arthur, with Bedivere as his escort, walk around the lower town, Arthur clutching tight at a faux crossbow.  
  
** _

_**Bedivere caught their eyes, and winked, which sent Leon into a silent laughing fit, his body shaking so hard that he nearly dropped Morgana. She dug her fingers into his arm and anchored her feet on one of the slate tiles, pushing both of them up as she held tight to him.  
  
** _

“ _ **You let me go, and I’m dragging you down with me.” She hissed.  
  
**_

_**Leon grinned at her, and tightened his hold to reassure her.  
  
** _

_**There was arguing from down below, and Morgana and he both looked down to see Lucan talking to Arthur and his older brother, saying something that Arthur was taking... ’Well’, if Leon were to tell Uther.  
  
** _

_**Bedivere sighed, and tapped Arthur on the top of his head, quieting the prince down as he looked up at them.  
  
** _

“ _ **Leon, Morgana, time to come down. The king has called a feast, and Morgana and Arthur need time to clean up.”  
  
**_

“ _ **But I don’t want to! I want to keep playing!” Morgana whined, though Leon would never tell her that that’s what she was doing. One day she would be a very good negotiator, with calm and rationale on her side, he was sure. Today, however, was not that day.  
  
**_

_**Bedivere sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Morgana, you are nine summers old, and your father wants you to be there so you can start learning how to navigate a political meal. Please, don’t make this harder on me for simply being the messenger”  
  
** _

“ _ **Technically,” Morgana chimed, tilting her head, “ Lucan is the messenger!”  
  
**_

“ _ **Morgana.” Leon chided, adjusting his grip so that he could look at her. “If you get in trouble, we can’t do this more, tomorrow.”  
  
**_

_**She pouted at him, before turning her gaze back down to the three below them. “Do I still get a blackberry pie?”  
  
** _

_**Bedivere laughed, and smiled up at her. “I’m sure no one will have an issue with that,” He said, before turning to Lucan. “Go tell Audrey to make lady Morgana a blackberry pie for later, alright?”  
  
** _

_**Lucan threw his head back and groaned, “Fine!” He shouted, throwing his arms up as he spun on his heel, marching back up towards the castle. “Lucan do this, Lucan do that, go here, go there. Always a demand, never a request. Not even from my own brother.”  
  
** _

_**Leon laughed, and slowly inched himself and Morgana down the roof, Bedivere walking over and lifting his arms to help Morgana down, catching her as she leaped and swinging her in an arc down to the ground.  
  
** _

“ _ **Do you want to me to help you, too?” He asked, and Leon scoffed.  
  
**_

“ _ **I’m thirteen summers, Bedivere, I can do it on my own.”  
  
**_

“ _ **Without getting hurt?”  
  
**_

_**Leon pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes, before grinning and nodding. “Yeah.”  
  
** _

_**Bedivere rolled his eyes, but stepped back, “Aright, then.”  
  
** _

_**He jumped.  
  
** _

_**Bedivere ended up carrying him to Gaius, Morgana laughing from ahead of them as she walked backwards, holding tight on to Arthur so that he didn’t make a break for it.** _

* * *

“ _ **Leon, you are twenty-four summers, Morgana, twenty. You’re both of, or very close to being of, age.”  
  
**_

_**Leon scrunched his eyebrows together, but nodded at his Mother. He was… A little concerned about where this was going, with him, Morgana, his mother, and king Uther all here.  
  
** _

“ _ **So, we were thinking an arranged marriage.” Leon’s mother said politely, smiling a deceptively calm smile.  
  
**_

_**Leon froze, could feel his face scrunching up and his shoulders tensing.  
  
** _

“ _ **What!?!” Morgana screeched from beside him, before turning to the side and gagging. He had no idea if it was faux or real.  
  
**_

_**He, personally, felt like gagging himself.  
  
** _

“ _ **Mother, Morgana Is… I don’t…. Mother, why?”  
  
**_

“ _ **I take it the two of you disagree? I thought the two of you liked each other. And Leon, you’ve been very good training my son, and I know Gorlois liked you, so I felt you would be worthy of Morgana’s hand.” Uther asked, lifting an eyebrow.**_

_**Morgana gagged again, before waving her arms about, in a very clear ‘ No, no, no.’ gesture. “Uther, Lady Evaine, please understand, we do like each other, just…”  
  
** _

“ _ **Not like that.” Leon finished, still tense, because Morgana was almost as much a sister to him as Arthur was a brother.  
  
**_

“ _ **Never like that.” Morgana added, looking over at him. They shared a disgusted look.  
  
**_

_**And while it was… Nice, he supposed, that Uther, of all people, felt that way… Still.  
  
** _

_ **No, just no.  
  
** _

“ _ **Well, that’s a shame.” His mother sighed, meeting Uther’s eyes. “I am very sorry, your majesty, but it’s always been my stand that I will not force my children into a marriage they do not want.”  
  
**_

“ _ **I see,” Uther said, nodding. “Yes. I don’t think I’d get very far with Morgana, either.” He sighed.  
  
**_

_**Morgana huffed a breath of relief as soon as they were left alone. “Can you imagine if they hadn’t taken our thoughts into account?”  
  
** _

“ _ **Please don’t make me, ‘**_ _ **Gana, I don’t want to have nightmares.”  
  
**_

“ _ **I’m just glad your mother is so scary. Uther might’ve pushed it more if she wasn’t.”  
  
**_

“ _ **I wouldn’t be surprised if she has blackmail on him that might actually do damage. She has blackmail on everyone.”  
  
**_

“ _ **Like I said. Scary.”**_

* * *

_**Leon couldn’t help but laugh as Morgana slumped back in her chair.  
  
** _

“ _ **Oh I wish you could have seen it, Arthur. The boy looked so horrified at the thought of it, and Arthur didn’t look much better.”  
  
**_

“ _ **He really just… Dove at Arthur?”  
  
**_

_**Morgana nodded and picked up her goblet, swirling the wine inside. “It was quite the sight. I’m still not sure how he moved so fast!” She took a sip, and Leon sighed and shook his head.  
  
** _

“ _ **And this boy… His name is Merlin?”  
  
**_

“ _ **Mmmhmm. Why?”  
  
**_

“ _ **Because that’s the name of the boy who beat Arthur in a mace fight.”  
  
**_

_**Morgana choked on her second sip of wine, slamming the goblet down onto the table as her hand flew to her mouth. “ No… You’re kidding me.”  
  
** _

_**Leon shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips.  
  
** _

“ _ **The same one that said ‘ How long have you been training to be a prat.’? Oh, please tell me it’s so.”  
  
**_

“ _ **The very same.”  
  
**_

_**Morgana threw her head back and laughed, clapping her hands together.  
  
** _

“ _ **Oh, this oughta be fun. I don’t think Arthur is going to last a week.”  
  
**_

_**Leon rose an eyebrow, “Arthur?”  
  
** _

“ _ **Oh, please.” Morgana said, rolling her eyes. “It sounds like that boy doesn’t care much for titles, and if he’s got Gaius to speak for him, no terrible harm will come to him. It’s all down to when Arthur cracks and fires him.”  
  
**_

“ _ **Hmm, I suppose you have a point.”  
  
**_

“ _ **Of course I have a point, Leon. Now pass me the cheese plate.”**_

* * *

“ _ **I will physically fight Arthur if he fires that boy.” Leon said, staring at the empty space that Merlin had collapsed to only moments before.  
  
**_

_**He drank poison. He knowingly drank poison.  
  
** _

_**Where was this boy’s self preservation?  
  
** _

“ _ **I’ll help.” Morgana whispered.**_

* * *

Leon watched Morgana carefully as she slept on the shore of the lake. She had no blanket, like the rest of them did, and she was dressed in riding clothes. Not very warm, clearly, as she was shivering.  
  


Or maybe she was shaking for an entirely different reason, her fingers grasped tightly around a blue, glowing crystal, and her lips moving almost imperceptibly, quiet little ‘ _No_.’’s and ‘ _Please.’’s_ slipping from them.  
  


He sighed, and gathered his blanket in his hands as he got up, walking quietly over to her and crouching down as he lay it on her.  
  


Morgana’s eyes opened, and rolled slightly to look up at him. She blinked, and Leon smiled down at her.  
  


“Hey. You looked cold.”  
  


She frowned, and sat up, tangling her fingers in the blanket. “But this is yours?” She said, her voice quiet in a way he’d never heard from her. His heart broke a little, and he looped his around around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. “I’m fine, Morgana. Something tells me you’ve been sleeping cold for far too long.”  
  


He heard a sniffle, and she buried her head against his chest. “Thank you, Leon.” She said, sniffling again.  
  


A smile tugged at his lips, and he pulled her tighter. “Of course… I’ve missed you _so much_ , Morgana. I’m sorry I didn’t see something was wrong, I’m sorry I didn’t help.”  
  


“It’s not your fault, Leon.”  
  


He pulled away, and frowned at her. “I’ve known you since I was ten, Morgana. I should’ve known something wasn’t right.”  
  


Morgana smiled at him, and tilted her head. “Exactly, Leon. You’ve known me since I was six. You must’ve known, deep down, that I was capable of it all.”  
  


he shook his head, “No, Morgana. You weren’t. There’s a reason Morgause had to use a spell to get you to act like that,-”  
  


“But I-”  
  


“We all have dark thoughts, Morgana. That doesn’t mean we’re actually capable of acting on them.”  
  


Morgana bit her lip, tears gathering in her eyes, and she nodded. “Thank you, Leo.”  
  


He grinned, and nodded back at her. “Always, ‘Gana.”


End file.
